


Carrot [Version 1.0]

by Unforgotten



Category: Dragon Ball Z (Anime)
Genre: Abandoned WIP, Gen, doppelgangers, old fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2000-10-01
Updated: 2000-10-01
Packaged: 2018-12-15 23:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 61,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11816760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforgotten/pseuds/Unforgotten
Summary: My never-completed DBZ epic from the year of our Lord 2000, when I was 15 and decided to add all sorts of magic and fantasy stuff to a canon that was mostly five-minute battles being dragged out for 10+ episodes. Starts with a second version of Goku showing up to be raised by Vegeta, and goes on to add everything but the kitchen sink, including made-up extra names for the Saiyan characters, random Japanese everywhere (as was customary in fic at that time), original characters galore, and a plot that was certainly going somewhere even if I can no longer remember where. (I wish I could, because I would totally be down to explain that loltastically in the end notes.)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I deleted this from ff.n eons ago and am convinced I will eventually lose it if I don't archive it somewhere. As I'm still very sad about all the fics from my first fandom (Animorphs) that are now lost to the sands of time, I just couldn't let that happen.
> 
> There is a second version of this fic which was a lot more serious business and a lot less lulz, because my initial idea changed a lot as I was writing it, and I thought it would be easier that way. That version is [over here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11816973/chapters/26662230). (It's not finished, either. I might have stalled out on it eventually anyway, but my real life blew up after just a few chapters, and I didn't write again until XMFC fandom in 2011.) All things considered, although the writing in the second version is an improvement, I think I like this first version better.
> 
> As a reminder, this fic is **abandoned** , and has been for something like 16 years at the time of this posting. There is zero chance I will ever continue it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lack of line breaks; I'm c/ping from a Word doc that didn't have them. I may or may not come back and add them in, but it's not a priority, so idk when I will have the time/energy to do that for ancient fic. There were also a LOT of italics in the original, some of which were excessive and others of which were necessary, so I may or may not bother to add those back in either.

Prologue

Kakkarot rubbed his eyes with little balled up fists, considered crying, reconsidered. Last time he had cried here, the noise had resonated for an hour, hurting his ears and making tears run down his cheeks at the effort to make no more noise so that the echoes would die away.  
He wanted his brother. Ra-ditz. His brother was nice--he had even sung a song to Kakkarot once, a soft, gently voiced song of little tails and big moons, little dreams countered by big realities. Kakkarot didn't remember all of the song, but he had liked it. He had wished that his brother would sing more, but he hadn't.  
There was a sudden jerk in what had until now been smooth movement and the stars he could see through the glass plate in front of his eyes stopped moving suddenly. He whimpered, but stopped the wail before it came. He gripped his tail tightly with both hands, an instinctual movement that held him outside of panic by the creation of pain.  
There came more of the jerky movement, and he was surprised to see a face where there had been stars. It was a funny sort of face, a face with a pointed nose, hard black eyes, black eyebrows with spiky hair to match, and a high forehead. When the face turned to look at something else, Kakkarot caught a glimpse of a twitching, nervous tail, and relaxed.  
Tails were safe things, as were people who had them. Tails were Saiyan things.  
And Saiyan things were . . . good things. Yes. Good.  
For the first time in what to a baby was forever, Kakkarot smiled--and he cooed.  
After an eternity, the stars disappeared and the soulless silver metal of something's inside took their place. There came a low hissing sound, and the glass plate that separated Kakkarot from the outside slid away. A white-gloved hand reached in and opened a panel in one wall of the small spaceship; when the hand left it was clutching a white piece of paper. There was a low murmuring as the paper was read, and then Kakkarot saw that face again.  
"So, your name is Kakkarot, huh?" the Saiyan said. "Says here that you're Bardock's kid--which would make you Raditz's brother, right? The low power level one he doesn't like to talk about?" He paused for a moment as he lifted Kakkarot out of the ship and plopped him onto a cold, hard metal counter. He pushed a button, and the glass pane closed again. "You're a very lucky third-class Saiyan, kid. Lucky because your ship didn't blow up before I got to it--"  
Kakkarot made a sound; he didn't like it when someone else did all the talking. "Da-da-da." He chirped cheerfully, waving his arms around in unexplained glee. "Daaaa-daaaa."  
That Saiyan blanched, jumped back, then glared with his arms folded over his chest. "I am not!" he yelped. "Don't call me that!"  
"Da-da?"  
"My name is Wolvwin, not Da-da!"  
"Da-da!" Kakkarot agreed.  
"Hey!"  
"Da-da?"  
Understanding dawned on Wolvwin's face as he stared at Kakkarot. "Is that all you can say?" he asked.  
"Daaaa-daaaa!" It sure was fun, talking like this! Kakkarot wished he'd thought of it sooner, with his brother Raditz. It would have been fun talking to Raditz--  
The other Saiyan began laughing. Kakkarot laughed, too.  
The Saiyan stopped laughing later, when Kakkarot--accidentally, his bladder temporarily getting the better of him--wet himself and the front of Wolvwin's shirt. As a matter of fact, he screamed and made Kakkarot cry, and then apologized numerous times and made funny faces so that he wouldn't cry.

* * *  
"Carrot!" Wolvwin yelped, snapping to the computer, "You know how to do this, you don't need me!" He blazed out of the control room, blue energy crackling around him, and went in search of the annoying toddler. "Carrot!"  
"Da-dee?" the boy inquired, sticking his head out of a doorway. "Da-dee want lunch?" His hands and face were covered in sticky pink stuff the older Saiyan could only assume was some mashed up mixture of foods. It was entangled in his hair, too, and would likely take hours to wash out.  
"Explain to me once again why I fixed your stupid ship and then decided to keep you around. I'm sure it would be better for you to be terrorizing aliens on some other planet," he muttered, albeit under his breath so that the kid couldn't hear, take offense, and either throw a tantrum or burst into tears. "Just explain that to me, Carrot." In a louder tone he added, "No, I don't want lunch, Carrot. I just wanted to know where you are and shuttle you off somewhere else, preferably a structurally safe place like the control room."  
"Boring!" Kakkarot informed him, his lower lip sticking out.  
"You like bleeding?" Wolvwin pointed out. "Because that's what you'll be doing, if one of those asteroids happen to hit--" to prove his point, the ship shuddered from an impact, and Kakkarot fell down. Wolvwin didn't, but only because he was floating, not standing. "You see?"  
"Fun shaking!" Kakkarot commented. "Fun, fun, Da-dee!"  
"For the last time--" Wolvwin began, "Don't call me--"  
The ship shook again, this time a more urgent, violent shaking. As his tail tightened around his waist, Wolvwin knew that this was no asteroid now. His ship could dodge or blow apart most of them in the storm, only being grazed once or twice--but the ship never shook like this.  
"Kakkarot. Get. To. The. Control. Room. And. Stay. There. Go NOW!" he ordered. Kakkarot opened his mouth, but Wolvwin glared at him, and he closed it and scurried down the corridor, falling down when the ship shook again.  
Damn it all! We're under attack! Wolvwin thought, not bothering to simply wonder who it was. He knew who it was, how could it be anyone else? Frieza . . .  
He felt a shiver run through his body, and old, long since healed wounds and bruises began to ache again. There was slight pain in the corners of his eyes, but he blinked back the tears. He gulped down his fear as best he could, and tried to make himself think.  
Okay. So Frieza's found me. What am I going to do about it?  
And what about Carrot . . .  
I can't let him take Carrot! He can take me, but never Carrot . . .  
A flame arose deep in his chest, and he felt a fury such as he had never known at the thought of that . . . that thing . . . touching the kid he cared about.  
Within a few moments, he knew what had to be done.  
He flew with all speed to the control room, without any explanation whatsoever snatched Kakkarot up, and flew along his corridors, turning corners so fast that he should have slammed into at least one wall, without ceremony blasted open the door to the docking bay.  
Kakkarot howled just once at being held by the back of his jacket, but ceased vocal complaint when Wolvwin cuffed him on the head. "Quiet, kid!" he hissed. "I'm trying to save your pathetic little life here."  
Kakkarot swore, a rather bad word he had caught wind of because Wolvwin used it every time the doors were jammed--which was quite often--but Wolvwin didn't bother to yell at him for it or praise him for it--normally he'd do just one or maybe both, but there was just no time--  
He glided over to the small ship and dropped Kakkarot into it. "You're going to go out into space, all by yourself, Carrot. Okay?" he said as he hit buttons on the panel that would control the ship. "It'll be fun, but you've got to be brave, okay?"  
"Okay."  
"Okay then." He drew a deep breath and hit the button that would seal the ship. As the red-tinted glass slid over the opening, he tried to smile, tried to calm Kakkarot with that one unusual expression. Instead, Kakkarot only looked more frightened.  
He closed his eyes to block a new rising of tears.  
"Goodbye, Carrot. Good luck and good hunting . . ." he whispered as he backed out of the bay. The great metal doors began to slide towards each other, and he made his eyes meet Kakkarot's. "We'll meet again. But until then . . ."  
He never finished.  
Because he would have sworn that he saw Kakkarot's lips mouthing the word "Da-deeeeeeeeee . . ." and he could hear that wail in his mind as though the kid had been an inch from his ear and shouting the syllables. "Da-deeeeeeeeee . . ."  
The ship shook with even greater furor, and as it collapsed on itself, Wolvwin watched the journey of Kakkarot's ship as it continued on the course that had been interrupted by half a year on his ship, the course to a planet known only as Earth . . .


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

As sweat dripped off his chin, Vegeta cursed his wife.  
In a whisper, of course--he wouldn't dare curse her to her face; he wasn't stupid!  
But she was.  
So that was what he told her, under his breath and using foul language, as he lifted the sponge once again out of the grimy water and continued washing her stupid windows.  
Of course, this wasn't as bad as it could have been--she could have made him sleep on the couch for an entire week again. Nevertheless, he did not appreciate this washing windows business.  
He'd already taken out his frustration on Trunks when the purple-haired monster hadn't looked away quickly enough--he had even smiled!--and had only managed to avoid Bulma's mouth for that because his son had taken the hint and left, though he'd been moaning with pain and curled up around his stomach as he did so.  
"Oh, Vegeta!" she called in that annoyingly cheerful tone he loathed, poking her head out of the kitchen window. "You missed a spot!"  
"Be quiet, woman!" he roared.  
"Well, you missed a spot!"  
"I'm not finished yet! Of course I'm missing a few spots! Stupid woman . . ."  
"You're not missing just a few--"  
"How can I work if you're running your mouth? Shut up! I can't stand--"  
"Sleeping on the couch?" she interjected.  
Vegeta gritted his teeth and slammed the sponge back into the bucket, which resulted in a fist-sized hole that made water splatter all over his clothes.  
Bulma pointedly sighed at his inability to keep his temper in check and slammed the window shut.  
He stood there, drenched from about chest-height to his toes, and considered several actions he could take now. He could blast the stupid bucket, blast the stupid sponge, maybe even blast the stupid windows, and then go spar with Kakkarot, preferably somewhere very far away from his mate.  
Or he could stay here, get a new bucket, and finish her windows.  
He thought about this for a moment.  
And then he blasted the bucket, blasted the sponge, and ignored her yelling as he flew off.

* * *  
Vegeta was pouting.  
He would have protested loudly and with fists and energy blasts if someone had accused him of pouting, but to himself he could admit that he was pouting. Could but didn't because he knew that he was pouting and didn't need to tell himself.  
Since when did Kakkarot pass on sparring in order to do whatever it was he did when he wasn't beating the crap out of someone? This was a new thing.  
Now all he could do was sit here, bored and wondering when it was safe to go home. Safe meaning the precise point in time when Bulma would neither make him finish washing windows or sleep on the couch--the point when she would rather spend time with him than make him do either of those.  
He kicked a nearby man-sized boulder, and it soared out of sight in five different pieces.  
It's not fair!  
He scowled and kicked another rock, a bit bigger than the last had been. This one soared out of sight in eight pieces.  
He continued kicking rocks, and it became a decent sort of distraction from self-pity as he counted the pieces once they were in the air. He didn't waste any real power on the boulders, because he didn't want to blow them to dust; he only used his feet and a small amount of his strength.  
He felt the swirling rise of strange power as he played his game, but it didn't register until it was great enough to swallow him without need for chewing.  
He didn't recognize this power--if that was what it was. There was something . . . something just too passive about it . . .  
Well, here was something more interesting than boulders.  
He felt his own ki rise, caressing his body and showing itself by a white-and-blue aura around him. He left the ground and half-blazed in the direction of this new power, not going full-speed because he wasn't going to be stupid and get caught in something without Kakkarot being there. He had to have someone to blame if something went wrong or if he died, didn't he?  
He felt Kakkarot's ki blaze suddenly, and knew the other Saiyan felt this strange power too. Several more powers shot up in various places, and Vegeta knew that he'd be met by Kakkarot's offspring as well as his own. He halted his flight and waited in the air, hands folded across his chest, as first Kakkarot came into view, then Gohan, Trunks, and Goten. He felt around for Bra's ki, found it at Capsule Corp., and shrugged.  
Well, it doesn't matter. She's too like her mother; she doesn't like to fight. Too bad, she'd be good at it--of course.  
Hmph. Women.  
"Hey, Vegeta!" Kakkarot hollered, "This feels weird! Do you know anything about it?"  
Vegeta sighed, and closed his eyes to beg for patience. "If I knew anything about it, would I be here?"  
"I don't know; would you?"  
"No!" he growled, "I'd be either kicking its sorry a--" He was interrupted before he could finish his word.  
"Vegeta! Don't curse!" Bulma called. Vegeta looked down and saw her waving from a car.  
What's she doing here?  
Oh. Yeah.  
Just because she didn't fight didn't mean that his daughter couldn't feel things and tell her mother about them. And Bulma would never stay away from a battle--this was the woman who'd informed him all those years ago that if Frieza was going to blow up the Earth, she wanted to see him before he did it!  
"Be quiet, woman!" he turned back to Kakkarot. "I would either be kicking its sorry butt or getting killed! But I don't know what it is!"  
"Let's go and find out, then!" suggested Goten and Trunks at the same moment, powering up and grinning like idiots. There hadn't been a real battle in something like five years, and Vegeta wasn't the only one elated at the idea of a real fight.  
"Idiots!" he hissed. "Keep your power levels low! You don't know whether this thing can sense--"  
::I can sense. I can see, hear, feel you Saiyans. I know what you are, and who. I know your pasts, presents, futures. I am the Tester, and I know all.:: The voice boomed inside Vegeta's skull. ::I know who you are, Prince Vegeta, and I know who your mate is. I know who your children are, and I know the one whom you call friend.::  
That's reassuring.  
Vegeta shook his head, and only had to wonder for half a second if he had been the only one who'd heard that.  
Bulma shrieked and clutched her steering wheel, looking as if she was about to faint even though she'd been present at more battles than Vegeta could count and had not been entirely absent from any major fights within his memory of her.  
"Wha--what was that?" Kakkarot yelped.  
"Don't ask me! I don't know!" Vegeta roared.  
Wisely, the younger generation kept silence as the two glared at each other. Also wisely, Bulma took a moment to tell Vegeta to shut up unless he wanted to sleep on the couch for a month before going back to looking terrified.  
"Well, it said your name, Vegeta," Kakkarot informed him. As if he hadn't already noticed.  
"I KNOW THAT, KAKKAROT! HOW COULD I NOT NOTICE?!" he howled.  
"All right, all right, Vegeta--you don't have to yell."  
"YES I DO HAVE TO YELL!"  
::I am the Tester.:: came the voice again.  
"We know! You told us!"  
::Hush. I am not finished. Let me finish.::  
This time, Vegeta said nothing. The aura around him faded away, and he landed on the ground to listen. The others followed his lead, and Bulma came to stand a bit to the right and behind him.  
The strange power came nearer, though he could see nothing.  
::I am the Tester, and I am here to give you your Test, Prince Vegeta of the Saiyans.::


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Vegeta froze for a bare instant as realization whacked him somewhere between his left ear and his right.  
Oh. No. He shook his head.   
He knew what he thought this was, but just to be certain . . .  
"What sort of . . . test?" Vegeta asked.  
::A Saiyan Prince's trial.:: replied the Tester. Several yards away, the air shimmered in rhythm with the Tester's every syllable. ::What else, Prince Vegeta?::  
He had been right.  
"Damn you." Vegeta spat.  
I don't want my test!  
Why should I be given it now? Why not back then? . . .  
"A Saiyan Prince's . . . trial?" Kakkarot frowned. "What's that mean, Vegeta?"  
Vegeta scowled. "Tester, I think you can answer that well enough, because I refuse to."  
::Before a Prince can truly be considered of the royal line, he must first past a test. This is usually done when the King is on his deathbed and the Prince will be made King when he dies. Sometimes it is done earlier . . . sometimes later. Sometimes the Prince does not become King--sometimes he does. The Prince's trial really has nothing to do with whether he will be King or not--it is more a matter of the heart and the soul.::  
"Oh." Kakkarot nodded, as though this made perfect sense to him.  
Perhaps it did.  
It made all too much sense to Vegeta, too much for any measure of comfort. He had believed that he would never have his test, because most of his species had been killed by Frieza--he had considered it the one good result of that event.  
He didn't want his test!  
He'd been told so many horror-stories in his youth of Princes before him and what they had gone through--  
He shivered, but stiffened and glared when he saw that Kakkarot had seen that sign of fear.  
"So, what sort of test will this be?" Kakkarot asked cheerfully, "And are we allowed to help?"  
There was a thoughtful sort of pause, then, ::It will be determined, and answered later. You will know then if you are to help.::  
"When is later?" Vegeta requested in little more than a whisper-hiss.  
::Later today. When you find your . . . challenge.::  
"And what would my challenge be?"  
::You will know it when you find it . . . that is all I will say.::  
And then, the strange power was gone. Just gone as though it had been wiped from existence, and three very bewildered demi-Saiyans and one human were gaping at Vegeta. Kakkarot was not gaping; he looked more thoughtful, with his hand rubbing his chin and his eyebrows etched together.  
"Just great." Vegeta muttered, slamming his foot into another boulder. "My test. Now!"  
It's not fair!

* * *  
"Let's go home, Vegeta." Bulma pleaded, tugging at her husband's elbow. "I don't think that waiting around here is going to help--"  
"Quiet, woman, I'm trying to think," he snapped.  
"'Trying' being the key word." She snarled, stomping back over to her car and slamming the door after she was in. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and tapped a foot on the floor. "You can't stop whatever's going to happen by waiting here any more than you can stop it by flying away."  
"And how would you know?" he sniped.  
"A woman's intuition." She snapped back.  
There seemed to be a collective sigh from Goku, his sons, and Trunks. She almost snapped at them too, but just in time remembered that it wasn't them she was angry at.  
If I were them, I wouldn't want to be listening to us either, she thought.  
"Hmph." He said in reply.  
"Well," she sighed, getting out of the car again. "I'm going to go on home. Don't stay here all day." She threw her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek, ignoring his blustering protest of "don't do that, woman!"  
"Bye, Sweetie," she whispered into his ear, ignoring the look of disgust on his face. "Love you, but I've got something I need to work on in my lab, and Bra's probably getting very impatient by now."  
"Goodbye!" he barked as she jumped back into her car.  
She put the car into gear and put her foot on the gas. She hadn't even gotten up to thirty miles an hour before she swerved to the left. The car slammed into a boulder, then bounced off of it to roll over twice.  
Before it could roll over a third time, the windshield, already cracked, disappeared in a blinding flash of light, and she felt herself being lifted out. She had her eyes shut tight, not having the slightest wish to see the fury that was certainly on Vegeta's face. Yes, it was always sweet when he got mad for her sake, but it was always more than slightly frightening, particularly when he was both angry at her and because of what might have happened.  
Goku spoke first, tentatively. "Er . . . Bulma? Why'd you do that?"  
"Because she's stupid, that's why!" Vegeta informed him with a shout.  
"Because I didn't want to run over the baby," Bulma corrected.  
Vegeta dropped her, and her butt hit the dirt with a loud thud. Tears came to her eyes as she stood. She opened her eyes and made to punch her husband, but stopped when she saw the utter puzzlement on his face.  
She glanced over to where she had in panic swerved the car, and saw that he was still there, a spiky-haired toddler watching her with dark eyes.  
Vegeta followed her gaze and promptly looked like he was going to pass out. She put a hand on his shoulder; he didn't even bother to shrug it off. "No . . ." he whispered. "It . . . can't be . . ."  
"What?" Bulma demanded.  
"Yeah, what?" Goku echoed.  
Bulma had never seen Vegeta look so helpless.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

"Well . . . um . . ." Vegeta stammered, spots of red appearing on his cheeks. "Er . . ."  
Goku wondered what was going on. This was not like Vegeta. Vegeta always knew what he was going to say. He never acted like he couldn't find the words for something, even if the words he did find weren't exactly smart.  
"Spill it." Gohan dictated, the first words to come out of his mouth since they'd been here. "Come on, Vegeta, what do you know that we don't?"  
Vegeta looked as if he were contemplating smacking Gohan's head off his shoulders and using it as a bowling ball. Goku cleared his throat when he saw Vegeta's fist balling up.   
The shorter Saiyan grunted and opened his mouth as if to explain. He glanced over at the toddler, closed his mouth, then opened it again.  
There was a flash of brown from over there, and Goku realized that the kid had a tail.  
He may not have been the most intelligent person in the world, but he knew what a tail meant. "That kid's a Saiyan!" he blurted.  
"Hai. He's a Saiyan. As a matter of fact, he's you." Vegeta informed him in rushed syllables.  
"What?!" Goku took a step back. "What do you mean . . . me?!"  
"Baka! What do you think I meant? I meant 'that kid's you!' Even you shouldn't have too much trouble understanding that!"  
Goten, Gohan, and Trunks looked like they were similarly shocked, with their mouths hanging open like a fish's. Bulma grinned; Goku couldn't imagine why.  
"That's . . . that's impossible!" Goku yelped.  
"So was Mirai no Trunks," Vegeta muttered.  
"Good point." Goku conceded. "But . . . how? . . ."  
Vegeta groaned suddenly. "My test!"  
That made sense, in an odd, things-are-about-to-get-much-much-weirder-than-this way. But still, even though he didn't doubt that the Prince was right . . . "How would you know that it's me, Vegeta?"  
Just then, the toddler--Me, Goku thought in astonishment--began to wail. "Da-deeeeeeeeee!"  
Vegeta winced, and he wasn't the only one, but he still tried to answer Goku's question. "Well . . . I might have . . . um . . . met you once or twice, before you were sent to Earth."  
This was news. "You what? Why didn't you ever tell me?" Goku yelled over his younger self's crying.  
"It wasn't important--and you never asked!"  
Goku personally didn't think that was any good reason not to be told something so important, but he didn't think this was the time to pursue it.  
"Da-deeeeeeeeee!"  
"How do we get him--me--to stop crying?!" Goku was getting an earache by now, due to the obvious competence of his baby lungs.  
"We give him his 'Da-deeeeeeeeee'!"  
"Who is his . . . Da-deeeeeeeeee?" Goku requested in a roar. "Wouldn't my tousan be dead?"  
"Hai. Your tousan's long dead." Vegeta agreed. "The Saiyan he calls Da-dee is not."  
"Naaaaaaaaaaaani?" Goku asked, eyes widening. "What do you mean, Vegeta? How can that be? We're the last two Saiyans, aren't we?"  
Vegeta threw a light energy blast at the younger Goku, who was knocked out cold as a result. Goku turned on Vegeta. "What did you do that for?!" he demanded, grabbing the front of Vegeta's shirt in his fist, feeling a fiery anger in his chest that rarely showed itself. His nose a bare inch from the Saiyan Prince's, he hissed in the low tone he hadn't taken on more than a handful of times in his life, "Why'd you do that, Vegeta?"  
"To get him to shut up so I can explain," the Prince scowled, shoving Goku away. He brushed off his clothes and floated to sit on the top of a nearby rock. "I didn't hurt him, Kakkarot. If a Saiyan isn't bleeding, he isn't hurt." Vegeta crossed his arms and scowled for emphasis, then began the explanation Goku wanted.   
"When Kakkarot--" he paused for a moment, brushed his hand against his chin, and corrected himself: "I'll call him Carrot, so we don't get confused here. When Carrot was first sent in the direction of Earth with his spaceship, no one knew that it was unstable, that it could self-destruct at any moment and definitely would by the time he entered Earth's atmosphere, killing him. When a ship piloted by a Saiyan named Wolvwin scanned Carrot's ship, it saw what the others hadn't--that Carrot's ship was too dangerous. Therefore, Wolvwin left his ship and towed in Carrot's to make repairs."  
Vegeta paused-- whether this was to let this sink in or find his next words, Goku had no idea.  
"He fixed the baby's ship, but by that time he had grown . . . attached . . . to Carrot. He decided to keep him around, if only for company in an otherwise too quiet and boring place."  
Vegeta's voice had taken on a strange tone, and Goku wondered if the Saiyan realized that he looked and sounded that way when he was telling a story.  
"He kept the kid for six months, until his ship was attacked by Frieza, at which time he put Carrot back in the little ship to continue his journey to Earth. By that time, though, Carrot had it firmly in his head that Wolvwin was his 'Da-dee.' That's who he was crying for."  
Goku's shoulders slumped. "So he's--I'm--crying for someone who isn't here?"  
Vegeta gazed at him steadily, making him feel uneasy.  
"How do you know this, Vegeta?" Bulma inquired softly.  
"Wolvwin was a friend of mine."  
"But if Frieza attacked his ship, how could he have told you--" Goku began, intending to point out that no Saiyan from back then had had a chance against the evil tyrant.  
Vegeta looked away and changed the subject so thoroughly that Goku for one bare instant wanted to strangle him. "Did you know that Vegeta is my family's name?"  
Goku glared, and Vegeta must have seen something in that glare when he looked back over at him, for he hurried on with whatever he was trying to say. "I have another name."  
"Why do we care?" Goku growled.  
"Da-deeeeeeeeee!" the younger Goku--Carrot?--wailed once more.  
Vegeta took a step towards the child, and said in an almost gentle tone that carried to the youngster, "Carrot!"  
"Da-dee?" Carrot struggled to stand, and in a movement Goku barely caught he ran up to Vegeta and hugged his leg. "Da-dee!"  
"You care," Vegeta said in answer to Goku's question, "because that other name is Wolvwin."

* * *  
Vegeta was more than a little bit amused when Kakkarot, upon hearing that statement, slumped to the ground in a faint. Bulma was less than amused--she was giving him her 'you're dead, and banished to the couch for a year' look. The others kept their open-mouthed-shocked-beyond-all-belief expressions.  
And if Carrot kept up at his current pace, Vegeta was going to loose all feeling in his left leg.  
It didn't really matter that Carrot's power level was so low at the moment as to be practically nonexistent when compared to Vegeta's current power level; the kid was still cutting off circulation.  
"Get off of my leg, kid." Vegeta scowled, holding his leg out in front of him and attempting to shake Carrot off. "I'm glad to see you in one piece, too, but I'm not trying to make your limbs numb."  
Carrot took the hint and let go, which resulted in his landing with an 'oof' and a half-wail in the dirt a hundred yards away.  
"Vegeta!" Bulma berated him. "Be gentle!"  
She seems to be taking this well, he thought, noting the absence of true anger in her tone (and, inwardly, where no one else could hear, busy being very, very thankful for that.)  
Then she glared at him with no pretense of sweetness.  
Or . . . not . . .  
He shrugged at her, and stood patiently waiting for Carrot to toddle back over.  
"Where Da-dee tail?" the two-year-old inquired, plopping down on the ground to sit cross-legged, and putting his own appendix into his mouth and bringing it out covered with slobber.  
"Don't call me that, and my tail's gone."  
"Why?"  
"Because a short, fat little coward cut it off when my back was turned, that's why not." He grumbled, not without regret.  
Bulma giggled.  
Vegeta wondered if she was 'PMSing' again. Her mood sure was changing every two seconds. This fact was proven when she turned on him and began wagging her finger at him in anger. "Explain." She snapped. "Better than you just did, and in one sentence."  
"My full name is Vegeta Wolvwin and Carrot here thinks I'm his 'Da-dee' because I took care of him for six months until Frieza decided to retrieve me by force." He said in his first breath. In his next two, he gasped, "It's . . . simple enough, woman."  
"Very simple," Bulma said dryly. "You managed to blurt it all within two seconds, so it must be simple."  
"Da-dee!" Carrot echoed Vegeta, making those annoying cooing noises. "Da-dee, Da-dee!" He waved his arms around in glee and giggled. "Da-dee! Da-dee!"  
"He likes you, doesn't he, Vegeta?" Gohan asked, kneeling down to inspect his father--or whatever the baby Saiyan could be classified as--and tickling him near his armpits. Carrot giggled some more. "I wonder why. If I were a baby, I'd be scared to death of . . ." he trailed off.  
Bulma rolled her eyes and briskly walked over to relieve Gohan of Carrot. He cooed when she picked him up, and closed his eyes as she talked baby-talk to him.  
Goten and Trunks glanced at each other, and said in one voice, "I thought things were back to normal."  
Goten shrugged. "What's normal isn't normal. Not for us."  
"Nope." Trunks agreed. "Weird is normal."  
Goten and Trunks nodded in agreement with each other; Vegeta rolled his eyes.  
"Wha--" Kakkarot, whom no one had paid the slightest attention to since he'd left consciousness, sat up abruptly. He shook his head and looked around. He saw Carrot, paled, and whispered, "Man . . . I thought it was just a dream . . ."  
"Do you normally dream about your far-past self being brought to the present by a mysterious creature planning to test me in some way?" Vegeta inquired with a smirk. "And have you ever even remotely dreamed of the possibility that you used to think I was your 'Da-dee'?"  
"Er--no."

* * *  
"Goochie goochie goo!" Goku vocalized. Carrot made little squeals as his future self tickled him under the chin. Vegeta stiffened and leaned harder against the wall, as though it was a personal insult that Goku and Carrot were getting along so . . . well.  
"Remind me, which one is the two-year-old?" he grumbled under his breath.  
Bulma, sitting in a recliner less than five feet from her husband, thought she was the only one who had heard this. She grinned, winked at Vegeta, pointed to Goku Older, and whispered. "That one."  
He nodded.  
"So, what are we going to do with him?" Bulma asked after a few more minutes of Goku baby-talking to Carrot.  
"Which one? The two-year-old, or the other?" Vegeta asked, with a perfectly straight face. Bulma would have believed said face if all those years together hadn't taught her how to read his eyes. She knew how amusing he was finding this entire situation. It practically radiated off of him.  
"The other. The little one with the tail. What are we going to do about him?"  
"Who is we?"  
"Bra and I, maybe even Goku--it is his past self, after all. I can't trust you with a baby, Vegeta."  
"CAN'T TRUST ME--" the Prince protested, interrupted by a sudden wail from Carrot. Then he frowned, and shouted, "SHUDDUP, CARROT!"  
"K, Da-dee." The little Saiyan agreed before Bulma could yell at Vegeta. "Da-dee want lunch?"  
Bulma thought this request was sweet. Vegeta obviously thought otherwise:  
"NO!" he roared.  
"K, Da-dee. Want breakfa--"  
"No, I don't want that either."  
"Why not, Vegeta?" Goku asked, looking up with a puzzled frown on his face.  
Bulma wondered 'why not' too--Vegeta never had a problem with eating everything in the house. As a matter of fact, he did so so frequently that she had long since given up trying to save any food for herself but take-out. (This was not fully Vegeta's fault, truthfully. Trunks ate a lot, and even though he'd moved out, his sister still ate. And Bra never had hesitation about pigging out.)  
"Whenever you feed me, you eat too. When you eat, you like to mash up your food to splatter it all over walls, throw it at me, and use it for shampoo." Vegeta informed him. "I don't like cleaning up after you. Therefore, you will not be eating."  
Bulma wondered whether this was directed at Goku or Carrot. Probably both, she decided.  
Vegeta really does plan to take care of the kid, she thought, he's assuming that he'd be the one to have to clean it up. And he's assuming right, too. Too bad he didn't assume any such thing with his own children; I would have liked that.  
And then Vegeta's last sentence identified itself inside her tired brain.  
"Vegeta! That's a terrible thing to say!" she scolded. "You are not going to starve Goku!"  
"I have no intention of starving Kakkarot." Vegeta scoffed. "I plan on not allowing Carrot to eat, at least not if I have to clean it up. If you want him to eat, you clean up after him."  
This was easily the most ridiculous statement her husband had ever uttered--Bulma informed him of this in a short, sharpened to the atom's edge point of a voice. She also stated that she was not going to clean up any such mess, so he would have to, and live with it whether he liked it or not, the big, bad Saiyan Prince. He then called her 'stupid woman', and made snide comments about several subjects he knew she was sensitive about. In retaliation, she threw a vase at his head; it shattered, and most of the pieces stuck in his hair.  
"Is that the best you can do, woman?" he sneered.  
She apprised him that he could pack his bags and leave.  
Heads shot up at this; it was only then that she remembered that though everyone had often seen her banish him to the couch, no one but Vegeta had ever known that she told him they were through at the rate of three times a week. Generally, she did this in the privacy of their bedroom. Also generally, he would lean over and kiss her, and what that led to usually made her change her mind about throwing him out before falling asleep. It was only about once a year that he actually stormed out the window and went off somewhere to sulk for a few hours until tiptoeing back in and going to bed, as if he thought that she would really already be able to sleep if she was so busy wondering how angry he really was and really wouldn't know the exact moment that he came back in.  
Vegeta raised an eyebrow, as if to say, 'You were really being stupid to say that out loud, woman.'  
There was a deafening silence in the room, except for the sound of Bra at her computer, typing furiously in an email program. (She didn't seem to care that her mother had just told her father to go reside elsewhere. She hadn't been too impressed with little Carrot either. But then, Bra had somewhere between her twelfth birthday and her thirteenth perfected an apathetic outer appearance, and Bulma hadn't been able to guess at what her feeling were on any single matter since puberty. Vegeta seemed to approve of his daughter on this matter; Bulma did not.)  
"Well?" Bulma demanded, glaring at her husband.  
"Well what?" he growled in return.  
"Well, what are we going to do about Carrot here?"  
The little Saiyan looked up at his name, jumped off of his perch on top of Goku's chest where Goku had been pretending that his younger self had beaten him up, and wobbled over to where Bulma was sitting. "What gonna do?" he agreed, glancing over at Vegeta. "Da-dee? What gonna do?"  
Vegeta shrugged. "I guess," he said slowly, "we are going to keep Carrot around. Temporarily. Until the Tester gives me specifics on what this 'trial' of mine is."  
Was it only her imagination, but Vegeta's eyes glowed when he said the word 'keep' . . .

* * *  
That night, a Saiyan Prince dreamed, and was told what his test would be.  
::The first task is this: raise the boy. Do so, and you will be told of your true test in time.::


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Bra snatched her papers out of Carrot's grimy hands. He tried to snatch them back, but she held them behind her back. "No." she said sternly. "These are mine."  
The brat considered this. He sat down and closed his eyes. Bra began to breathe again. And just when she thought he wouldn't--  
He cried.  
Loud enough for the entire house to hear.  
Screaming. Pounding the floor with his fists (though, with a power level only a few points better than his initial two, he couldn't really do anything to it.) until he was purple. Making Bra want to backslap him into the next planet (and she was perfectly capable of doing so. She would have to watch herself; didn't want to loose her temper with the brat, at least not until he was strong enough so that she could beat his arse without accidentally killing him).  
"He's not bleeding, dying, or dead!" Bra raised her voice just enough so that it could be heard over him. "He's just mad 'cause I won't let him destroy my stuff. Nothing to worry about!"  
Not that she needed to explain anything. It had gotten so bad that no one bothered rushing to Carrot's side to see what the matter was anymore; the case was always that Carrot wasn't getting what he wanted when he wanted it and how he wanted it.  
She envied her brother. He had moved out years before this--this pathetic little parasitic worm--had moved in. She couldn't move out just to get away from Carrot--well, she could, but that would be extremely stupid, because she loved Capsule Corp.  
"Why don't you just fall off a cliff and hit your head on something?" she demanded. "Then you could be a sweet little kid, like Mom says Goku was when he was little, and I won't want to tear you into little pieces and feed you to a snail."  
"Da-deeeeeeeeee!" Carrot began in return for this.  
"Shut up!" Bra yelped in a panicked voice. "Don't get Tousan in here!"  
She put a hand over Carrot's mouth. When he bit it, she swore violently and almost hit the little turd right between the eyes. She forced herself to calm down, though he was still making enough noise to almost make Capsule Corp. shake, and skulked out of the room muttering obscenities under her breath.  
The little parasite worm followed, and somehow managed to get into the chocolate ice cream while Bra had the freezer opened. She snatched that away from him too (that was what she'd been in the freezer looking for anyway), and there came a tug-of-war; the result of that was that within the next five minutes Carrot was happily throwing fist-fulls of ice cream at Bra as she retreated from the war zone.  
So that's why Tousan wanted to starve him . . . she thought as she slammed the front door behind her. Little worm . . .

* * *  
Vegeta stared.  
Bulma stared.  
Carrot stared back, covered in melted chocolate ice cream.  
The kitchen was also covered in said melted ice cream. This should have been impossible; a half-gallon of ice cream should not be enough to blow up so that every inch of any room bigger than a closet is bathed in it.  
But then, Kakkarot had a reputation for making possible what was not; it wasn't too difficult to believe that Carrot could wreak havoc where he shouldn't have had the slightest chance of making more than a little mess.  
The Saiyan Prince closed his eyes and took a deep breath. And another. And another. This went on for about two minutes, as he held onto the ragged edges of his temper with every ounce of his strength.  
He was not going to loose his temper. Carrot had recently proved that the tantrums Goten had excelled in were nothing--nothing--compared to what his father could do when less than two and a half years old, and he was perfectly willing to have one at any moment. Vegeta could not stand the kid's temper tantrums, and was reluctant to provoke them. And, when Vegeta had lost his temper and cursed at the kid yesterday, Bulma had gotten all huffed up. She had said something about 'terrible twos,' but Vegeta couldn't remember his offspring having them. (Then again, he had never paid much attention at all to his children. He knew they were his, he knew their names, and when pressed he could give an approximate age and power level--and he was also absolutely sure who their mother was. Other than that . . .)  
And then, the calm and controlled Saiyan by the name of Vegeta Wolvwin opened his mouth to speak--calmly and with self-control, of course.  
But before he had a chance, the even more calm and controlled human who happened to be that Saiyan's wife blew up instead.  
Carrot just listened to Bulma's tirade, and whenever she stopped for breath he said "Sowee" in such a plaintive, solemn tone that Vegeta was certain Bulma would have melted if she'd been paying one whit of attention to the child himself. But she was busy yelling, and when Bulma wanted to yell--well, there wasn't much anyone could do but cringe and wait for it to be over or grunt at her with indifference every other sentence.  
When Bulma paused mid-sentence for the fourth time in order to gasp for breath, Carrot asked, "Da-dee want ice cream? Plenty!" To prove his point, he flung it at Vegeta and giggled when it splattered all over his self-appointed father's face.  
Vegeta closed his eyes.  
Carrot abruptly stopped giggling.  
When Vegeta opened his eyes again, he noticed that Carrot had very wisely left the room.  
He surveyed the chocolate-painted kitchen, sighed, and did his best to ignore Bulma's little snorts of laughter as he tried to think of a way to clean up this mess. He wasn't even going to bother telling Bulma that she was going to do it--she was dangerously close to really getting mad. And even a Saiyan Prince was respective of that woman's anger, and would do his best not to invoke it.

* * *  
Bra was not entirely certain she had heard correctly; but she turned slowly around and let her face show absolute fury anyway. "What did you just call me?" she demanded of Carrot.  
He considered her a moment, grinned, and repeated what she had thought she'd heard.  
She nodded, grabbed the front of his jacket, and lifted him into the air.  
"You better not ever call me that again." She snarled at him, ignoring his little whimpers and feeling her power pushing to be let loose and giving her a headache because she would not allow it. "Got that, Brussels Sprouts?"  
"No." he informed her, crossing his arms and somehow retaining a small measure of dignity though he was dangling in the air. "Not 'got that'. Not Brussels Sprouts, either."  
She sighed, shook her head, and pinned him to the wall, without the least pretense of being gentle. Leaning towards him, she heard him gulp as he got a good look into her eyes.  
"I do not," she began in a conversationalist tone, "Want to have to blow you into little inch-long slivers. Really, I don't. But," her voice hardened as she went on, "I can, and I will if you don't apologize right now, twerp."  
"No." he repeated. "Won't 'pologize. Don't have to."  
"Yes, do have to," Bra said cheerfully, allowing a light layer of power to envelop her body and ruffle her hair. "Or die."  
Carrot's eyes widened at this revelation, and tears were evidenced in the corners of his eyes. "Don't wanna die . . .," he said finally.  
"Good. Then apologize."  
"Don't wanna 'pologize. But don't wanna die, too." He said. His tail came up and tapped Bra's wrist. "Lemme go? Pwease?"  
"No."  
"Pwease?"  
"Only if you apologize."  
Don't wanna--"  
"You mentioned that already, Brussels Sprouts."  
This went on similarly for several hours--apparently, the stamina and stubbornness required for this sort of thing was encrypted in Saiyan blood--until it finally occurred to Carrot to call for Vegeta.  
"Da-deeeeeeeeee!" he wailed.  
Bra tightened her hold on his jacket, and grabbed his tail with her free hand, just hard enough so that he knew she would squeeze it if he didn't shut up. She hadn't wanted to do that--it was a dirty, dirty trick, according to her tousan--but she wasn't about to let this little intruder win. "Shut up, Brussels Sprouts," she said, in a sweet tone worthy of her mother. "Or I'll pull out your tail and shove it up your--"  
He looked so alarmed at this that she couldn't make herself finish. Instead, she just let the threat carry on heavy, silent air for a minute, then hissed, "Got it?"  
"Got it!" Carrot agreed, trying to wiggle out of her grip.  
"Now apologize," she demanded, letting him squirm.  
"Yes, ma'am!" he hollered, his voice then lowering to a whisper, "I'm . . . sowee." His lower lip stuck out when he forced out that word.  
It was noted by a very relieved Saiyan Prince and his wife that after this episode with Bra's temper, Carrot became much more compliant with the wishes of others (particularly Bra), and only threw a tantrum once in a while as opposed to once every two hours.


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

"Bra?" Carrot inquired, sticking his head into the doorway of Bra's room. The tip of his tail twitched and made his ribs feel like they were being tickled. "Can I ask you something?"  
She looked up from the computer monitor, where she had been muttering curses at the new program she'd just installed--the one she'd stayed up all night working on, the one she'd denied him the use of even the computer in his own room last night because she'd been working on it--and said, rubbing sleep out of her eyes and yawning, "What is it, Brussels Sprouts?"  
He stiffened at the familiar jab to his dignity--though it wasn't like being named Carrot was much better--but shrugged it off. This was more important than his pride--and besides, he didn't want to get into a fight with Bra right now. She'd been up all night, and was half-asleep--and he didn't have a chance against her unless she'd been in front of the computer screen for at least a week straight.  
"Erm . . . do you think Tousan would be too angry if I were to bring something fuzzy and warm that barks into the house and keep it as a pet?"  
"Only if it's still alive when you do," she replied promptly. "I would bet that Tousan would be perfectly willing to ensure that said barking thing dies within a minute of his spotting it. Don't bring a dog home, Brussels Sprouts. It'll just be one less dog on this planet."  
"It's a puppy." He corrected, knowing that this made no difference. "And don't call me Brussels Sprouts."   
By adding on that sentence, he let her know without so many words that the matter of puppy was closed. He had wanted her opinion; now he had it. And later, he was going to sneak the puppy in regardless--but she didn't have to know that yet.  
"Brussels Sprouts, Carrots, they're both vegetables." Bra pointed out, leaning against the back of her chair until only its back two legs and the wall it leaned on gave her support.  
"You wouldn't call Tousan Brussels Sprouts." He growled.  
"I wouldn't throw myself in front of one of the energy blasts he's aiming at Goku, either," she shot back. "I'm not suicidal, Brussels Sprouts. And besides, Tousan is just Tousan; why would I call him anything else?"  
This made perfect sense, actually--but Carrot decided not to acknowledge her logic. Rather, he glared at her then turned around, slamming her door when she reminded him to shut it.

* * *  
"What do you think it'll take to get my Tousan to let me keep you?" Carrot asked the little spaniel, who stared up at him with trusting brown eyes. "Bra's, right, you know; he would kill you, without even waiting for my explanation. He doesn't like things like dogs. He doesn't even like most people."  
She whined and thrust her muzzle under his hand, the feel of her cold nose and whiskers making him grin. He began to pet her, and her entire backside wiggled in response because, like most of that breed, she had only a stub for a tail.  
With soft, shiny black fur and deep chocolate eyes, this puppy had done what puppies do to little boys--she had stolen his heart.  
And nothing, ever, would make him take it back.  
"Maybe I'll ask Bulma," Carrot continued, scratching his newfound friend behind the ears. "She can make Tousan listen--most of the time. Or maybe I'll even ask Goku . . ." he considered the wisdom of this, and changed his mind. "Nah, not Goku . . . Tousan would kill you then just to spite him, I think."  
She whimpered and jumped up to swipe his cheek just once with her little pink tongue. He grinned and patted her on the head.  
"Anyway, I'll get someone to tell Tousan that I can keep you." He continued, a six-year-old lost deep in his own thoughts and newly made dreams. "You know, I've never had a dog before . . . or even a pet. Like I said, Tousan doesn't like animals. I'm not sure what Bulma thinks of them, except that she says 'aw! How sweet!' when animals are on the TV--unless it's snakes or something. As for Bra--I have even less of a clue of what she thinks of them; I never know what she's thinking."  
With a sigh, he stood with her cupped in his hands and walked back home. He would have flown, but Vegeta hadn't bothered to teach him that--or even much of anything--yet. Why bother, the older Saiyan seemed to think, when Carrot's counterpart was already the strongest person he had ever known? (This was probably why he was neglecting Carrot's training, too. Why bother to prove that the person who was born as Kakkarot was blessed with that power twice?)  
Carrot seemed not to notice that between the shoulder blades of his new friend, there grew wings.

* * *  
Bulma, of course, did notice--after her initial attack of "Oh! How adorable . . ."  
She noticed this, and instead of screeching as was her initial instinct, her fingertips lightly brushed the speckled brown feathers. "Wow . . ." she murmured. "Carrot . . . where did you find this dog? She's got wings!"  
"She does?" the little boy's eyes went wide, and Bulma could not believe that he had been that unobservant. "How'd she get those?"  
"Where did you find her?" Bulma persisted, not having an answer to his question and therefore wanting an answer to her own..  
"Find her? I . . . I . . . I didn't . . . Bulma-san, she was just there!" he said, his arms tightening around her. "I don't know . . . where, exactly . . . she was just . . . I don't know . . ." his face tightened around his mouth and eyes as his eyes shot around the room, as if asking the clutter of experimental machinery piled on tables and on the floor what the answer to Bulma's question was.  
Bulma stroked the puppy's head and wings, and the poor little thing cringed and shivered, just a bit. "C'mere, Gorgeous," she muttered, and Carrot gave her up without protest. "Come here, Baby. It's all right; I'm not going to hurt you." She whispered into her ears until the shivering stopped, then looked at Carrot. "Wherever you got her . . . she's just precious . . . Now, what was it you brought her here to ask me, anyway?"  
Carrot perked; his face lit up in a big grin. "I was just gonna ask if you could sort of . . . get Tousan to let me keep her." By the new, hopeful expression upon his face, he must have noticed that she was absolutely taken with the puppy; he seemed nowhere near as concerned as he'd first been when he walked into her lab.  
"Could I? Could I? Carrot, Vegeta is my--" she paused for a moment, having heard a familiar growl, then said, "--slave. And, yes, I know you're there, Vegeta!" She glared into the shadows near the door, trying to find her husband's basic shape among them. "Quit hiding!"

* * *  
He had not been 'hiding'. He had been 'watching' and 'listening', like he always did in his spare time, just to make sure that nothing bad happened to Bulma if something blew up. That incident four years ago with the car had frightened him. And when she had been in a wreck a week after--even though she'd only gotten a broken arm, two broken ribs, and a concussion--he had decided that human machinery was too dangerous for him not to keep an eye on her when she was around it.  
Of course, he would let her think he had been 'hiding' in here just so that he could eavesdrop on a conversation--he had no intention of letting her know that he was mellowing even a little bit.  
But he wasn't mellowing! He had just gotten used to having her around, and if something happened to her--  
Well, that was enough of that. She was glaring at a place a couple of feet to his right, and he was quite sure that if he didn't hurry up and show himself, she would suddenly gain the ability to shoot lasers from her eyes, thereby demolishing her wall, and then blame him for it.  
He wondered how she had known he was there--surely she couldn't know how often he was!  
"How much did you overhear?" she demanded when he stepped forward, tightening her hold on the 'puppy' and scowling.  
"All of it," he answered, truthfully.  
"By 'all' you mean?"  
His eyebrows knitted together as he contemplated snapping at her; he decided that was definitely a bad idea, and so answered with just the slightest sneer, "'Oh! How adorable!' on."   
He was lying. He had heard her every murmur and curse at reluctance machinery for the last three hours. But she did not need to know that. She would call him 'sweet'--or 'stupid', but probably 'sweet'--and he did not like being called that.  
"Can I keep her, Tousan?" Carrot piped up. "Please?" He seemed to have forgotten that he wanted Bulma to argue his case.  
"Of course you can," he growled. "I can't stop you. Once a Happit has chosen her charge, nobody can stop her, especially me."  
Carrot did not question this logic; he whooped and bounced up and down in excitement, looking more like Kakkarot in that moment than Vegeta ever would have believed possible. Never mind that they had been born the same person--they were as far from each other in temperament as they could be with that essential fact in tow. After all, Carrot hadn't hit his head as a child. Kakkarot had. They could only be so different, but they could not be exactly the same.  
Bulma relinquished the Happit to Carrot when he bounced over to her. He ran out of the room, making such a general racket that Vegeta thought it would be better to have the full blast of a two-year-old tantrum in his ears.  
"Explain that," Bulma said in a tone similar to her 'you're-a-dead-Saiyan-unless-you-have-a-really-good-answer-for-me-because-I-can't-stand-not-knowing-something' tone. "Now. What is a Happit, and why aren't you arguing with the fact that Carrot wants a puppy?"  
"A Happit is what that 'puppy' is." He said, not quite daring to use anything other than his matter-of-fact tone. He didn't think she would appreciate a 'you-stupid-woman' or 'I-know-something-you-don't-know-and-I'm-going-to-use-that-for-my-advantage' attitude at the moment. "A Happit is a creature out of legend, that is sent to the Saiyan it is most needed to protect. You might compare them to 'guardian angels'. Beyond that, I know nothing of them except that their loyalty is to first to their Chosen and second to their King--or Prince, as the case may be."  
His father hadn't had a chance to finish the story. That was why Vegeta knew so little of them. That, and the fact that he'd forgotten much of what his mother had told him of Happits; she'd been gone by the time he'd turned six years old, and it was difficult to remember her stories now.  
He preferred not to dwell on that fact.

* * *  
There was a soft whimpering sound from behind her, and Bra sighed as she realized that Carrot must have brought his puppy in. She pushed her chair back, stood, and turned around to see Carrot cradling a cocker spaniel puppy in his arms.  
Said cocker spaniel puppy had wings.  
Bra shrieked, and spontaneously discovered how to fly by jumping into the air and staying there.  
Carrot laughed at her, and she would have torn the little worm apart if that self-same puppy with wings hadn't begged her not to with sorrowful brown eyes.


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Goku thought that Carrot's puppy was cool.  
Goku thought that everything Carrot did was cool--and he really did too, he was really interested. Not like some grown-ups, who would just say 'uh-huh', 'uh-huh', and 'yeah, whatever' whenever Carrot tried to talk. Goku cared.  
Well, of course he cares! Carrot berated himself. He's me, isn't he?  
Carrot was not supposed to know this yet. But he had asked Goku once what it was no one would tell him, and why he was sometimes given a wide berth by people like Chi-Chi--and Goku had told him, flat-out, no lies hidden in his words and nothing to make what he said seem less important either. It was important, incredibly so, and Carrot was the most important part of it, unless maybe you counted Vegeta because it was his test.  
Of course Goku cared. There was no one on the Earth that Carrot could imagine who wouldn't take a very great interest in their younger self if they were brought as a baby into their adult life. How could he not care?  
But still. Goku was an all-round fun person, and he was always willing to give advice. True, most of the time he just confirmed what Carrot himself thought, but there had been times when Goku had proved that he was in possession of at least a little bit of worldly wisdom.  
"When do you think she'll learn to fly?" Carrot asked his other self, who was sitting cross-legged on the ground petting the puppy that was in his lap.  
Goku's brow furrowed as he looked at the puppy, and Carrot could tell he was thinking hard. Carrot could always tell when Goku was thinking. "Well," the older Saiyan began, "I bet she flies when her wings get just a little bigger. They look too small to hold her right now."  
"That makes sense," Carrot agreed, kneeling beside Goku to stroke his puppy's head. He did not say anything about 'proportion', because he wasn't sure if that was a term Goku would understand, and if it wasn't he didn't want to have to explain.  
He always explained things that Goku didn't understand. It was a matter of honor--at least as far as Carrot was concerned. If Carrot didn't know something, Goku told him, and so he should do so in retrospect.  
"Hey, have you named her yet?" Goku asked after the puppy jumped out of his lap and ran off a little ways in order to do her business. "Because I would name her--"  
"Lady." Carrot jumped in on the last word. "Yeah, I figured you would, because that's what I named her."  
Goku grinned.  
"And Tousan even gave me permission to keep her." Carrot said after a few minutes of watching Lady bounce after butterflies.  
"Really?" Goku looked very surprised at this. "Vegeta did? Wow."  
'Wow' was a very correct term.  
'Oh no, I'm dead' would have been the correct term had 'wow' not been suitable. Vegeta had glared at Lady when Carrot said he was going to visit Goku. And it had been a real glare, the one just after his 'be-afraid-be-very-very-afraid' glare and just before his 'heads-are-going-to-roll-and-as-a-matter-of-fact-let's-start-with-yours' glare.  
Very few people knew how to read the Saiyan Prince's face; among these few were his mate, his son, his daughter, Carrot, and on occasion Goku. These knew of the many moods Vegeta's glares were used for.  
Vegeta had all forms of glares, ranging from 'I'm-proud-of-you-and-maybe-even-fond-but-I'll-never-admit-it' to 'that-was-funny-but-not-quite-enough-so-that-it-merits-my-making-fun-of-you' to 'that-was-so-I'm-gonna-sneer-now-and-tell-you-how-stupid-you-are' to 'I'm-annoyed' to 'die'. Some of these were no danger whatsoever to anyone. Some, particularly the three at the far end of the spectrum, the 'I'm-in-a-killing-mood' three--all of which meant that either you ran for your life or already knew that you could kick the Prince's arse--were most definitely a danger.  
And Vegeta had glared at Lady with his second worst one.  
Carrot didn't think there was any chance of Vegeta killing the puppy--it just seemed like he wanted to but knew he'd best not or else from Bulma . . . or maybe not his mate, but some other power. There had been a flicker of something besides sullen anger--maybe fear?--in that glare.  
But . . . Tousan's not afraid of anything! Carrot thought as his eyes followed Lady's play at the edge of the forest. So it couldn't have been that . . .  
Or could it?  
Carrot shook his head.  
There was no reason--no reason--for Vegeta to be afraid of a little puppy.  
If there was not a reason--and most of time even if there was--the man Carrot called his tousan would not be afraid. Thus, whatever that momentary lapse in inherent Vegeta surliness had been, it had not been fear.  
And that, as far as Vegeta's Challenge was concerned, was all the thought the matter needed.

* * *  
Vegeta pushed a milk carton to the side and stuck his head into the fridge, sleepily squinting at the sparse contents. Ham, bread, mustard, mayonnaise, ketchup, lettuce, carrots--I should have named that boy something else!--apples, turkey, orange juice, cake--cake is real food, good snack.  
He pulled out the cake with relish, dropped it onto the table, then went for a fork and a knife. He pulled out a chair, sat, and was just about to remove the top of the cake container when he noticed the sheet of white printer paper taped there.  
Vegeta, if you eat this, you die, it's not for you, and it's not even mine--it's Bra's. She made it for Goten's birthday party. Do not touch it. If you do, I'm kicking you out. This is important to Bra; it is Goten's thirtieth, and he's damned close to being her only friend, after all.  
-Bulma  
Vegeta glared at the note his mate had left for him, wondering if she meant it. Then he saw the small addition beneath her name:  
PS: I mean it.  
Normally, he would have dismissed such a warning without a second thought. But--  
Well, the cake was Bra's. She was very touchy about things she did for Kakkarot's youngest--and she had very nearly beaten her tousan into bloody strips when he'd eaten the cake last year.  
She had been in tears when she'd done that, furious with Vegeta for liking the way she made a cake and anguished at the thought of showing up at Goten's party without one. She always made Goten's cake, or at least she had for the last five years. And even though Kakkarot's mate always made one too . . .  
Vegeta tore up the note and left the shreds on the table, not scowling at all; rather, an expression adorned his face that no one would have believed if they had been there to witness it, an expression no person had seen for nearly fifty years.  
Vegeta was smiling, a soft, gentle curve of a smile. With a care that no one had ever seen from him--except perhaps Bulma, for she'd not been quite asleep that first night together, when he'd touched her forehead with his lips while cursing himself for the newly awakened feelings within him--he reopened the refrigerator door and deposited Bra's cake on the top shelf.  
::That is the right thing to do, My Prince,:: the soft voice announced in his mind. ::It is good that you do the right thing.::  
He turned and saw the Happit sitting just outside of the light the fridge shed. He scowled. "It's none of your business, Happit."  
::According to the boy, that is not my name. He has called me 'Lady', and I rather approve.::  
Vegeta did not particularly care what Carrot had named the Happit. His eyes narrowed into slits as he asked the question that had been destined to come to mind from the Happit's first words: "Why doesn't Carrot know you can talk? I would have heard about it if he knew."  
::I cannot be heard by the boy. We Happits can never be heard by our Chosen. Why do you think that our loyalty is second to our Prince? Why, the reason is that only one of true royal lines and not Chosen may hear us. And without an Ear to listen, we would be lost.::  
"Yes, well, you can forget that listening business!" Vegeta hissed. "I don't like babble. Particularly from too-cute little monsters that have a habit of turning on their masters."  
::The Renegades were driven out long ago, My Prince!:: the Happit protested, mind's voice edged with sudden indignation and pain. ::I am true! And . . .:: she paused, then came forward so that he could see her in the light. ::I do not babble. It takes a hard heart to turn from listening to need, even if it be rambling, My Prince. I . . . I do not believe that your heart is stone . . . perhaps only melting ice? . . .::  
He considered the way her eyes were downcast to focus on some point between his feet and hers. He thought about the emotions bubbling in her mind-speak, and the way they echoed through his mind even when she did not speak.  
As he shut the refrigerator door, he spoke, his tone hard but yielding just a bit. "I will listen. But do not babble. Say something of consequence when you speak, or do not speak at all."  
::Thank you.:: she whispered before whirling about to leave the kitchen.  
Vegeta wondered why she bothered to thank him. She had to have known that he'd do Princely duty and be her Ear; it was just the way of things between Saiyan and Happit, had always been.  
He did not remember all of the legends involving Happits. But he knew the duties listed for one of the royal line should a Happit show up and demand all her rights.  
A Happit needs an ear to listen. What a Happit needs is what a Happit gets.  
Saiyan rules and laws were not written with any hint of the regal air that many other civilizations' written laws possessed. 'Get the point across then shut up'. That was the Saiyan way.

* * *  
Bulma rubbed sleep out of her eyes as she pushed the covers back. Vegeta moaned and pulled the blanket away before she even got fully out of bed; then, with an obnoxious snort that predicted how noisy he would be in sleep for an hour to come, he proceeded to snore.  
She touched one foot to the floor, and even though it was carpeted she pulled her foot back up and huddled there in a little ball for a long moment.  
Then she shivered and glared at her husband before forcing herself over the side of the bed and sliding her feet into fuzzy pink bunny slippers. She stumbled towards the door, yawning.  
Normally, she would get dressed before venturing into the corridors of Capsule Corp., mainly because she had discovered in recent years that anyone might show up in them. Apparently, everyone she knew considered Capsule Corp. as a home away from home and maybe even more desirable a place to be than the original home.  
But today, she had to check on something. It was important, a lot more important than her dignity should she stumble into anyone with her nightgown all rumpled from tossing in her sleep.  
Still yawning, she blundered into the kitchen and swung open the refrigerator door.  
It's still there! She thought in astonishment. I don't believe it!  
Vegeta had never paid attention to her warnings before . . .  
Just then, Bra stumbled into the kitchen in much the same state her kaasan had. She peeked over Bulma's shoulder, squealed in delight, and ran back down the hallway, presumably to get dressed for Goten's party. Bulma smiled and closed the fridge door with a lot more gentleness than she had used in its opening.  
Yawning yet more, she ambled back to the bedroom. Once there, she slipped out of her fuzzy pink bunny slippers and pulled her side of the blanket out of Vegeta's iron grip--this was an acquired skill. She had not begun their relationship by being able to get blankets away from Vegeta; there had been a time when she either didn't get them from him or got them with unsightly rips because he had this annoying habit of not wanting to let go. Even in sleep, he was a stubborn man.  
As a matter of fact, she liked him better when he was asleep, sometimes. When he was awake, he was all too often a stubborn jackass.  
She felt a sudden wave of sadness--she didn't know why--at the face of her sleeping husband. Even in sleep, he never let himself smile . . .  
She inched close to him and felt herself drifting into sleep, the sound of Vegeta's sleeping breaths somehow a comfort and not an annoyance in her ears.  
She was not quite asleep when something small and hard slammed into her stomach and made her swear. She pulled the covers over her head and moaned when Lady decided to lick her face. But the puppy burrowed under the covers and found her face again, this time while lying lengthwise across her neck so she couldn't escape.  
"Go away, dog, scat!" she protested, trying to push the thing off her. This was more difficult than it should have been; the puppy proved to be an inanimate object as far as going away was concerned.  
She started to giggle as she continued in her efforts to make Lady go away.  
The puppy began cleansing Bulma's face with renewed vigor at her giggling, and then got a little too excited and started to nibble, at which point the woman grew stern. "None of that." She scolded, stiffening and pushing the puppy's head away. "Don't bite." She felt her cheek where the Happit's teeth had been, and glared at the speck of blood on her fingertip.  
The puppy whined and ceased her display of affection. She rolled off of Bulma's neck and lay splayed across the sheets with her tongue lolling out, her wings half unfurled at her sides. She stayed in such a position for quite a long time, eyes closed and the stub of her tail giving an occasional wag.  
Bulma was no longer sleepy, so she just stayed where she was and watched Lady.  
You really are quite adorable, she thought in the Happit's direction. But I would just like to know what you are . . . Vegeta called you a Happit . . . he said you're here to protect the Saiyan who needs you most, which would be Carrot . . . but . . . that doesn't help my confusion here.  
At this point, there was one last nasal snort from Vegeta. He opened one eyelid slowly then closed it again.  
Then both his eyes snapped open; he scowled at the Happit sprawled between him and his mate. His gaze darted from Lady to Bulma and back to Lady, and his scowl deepened. His dark eyes crackled as he frowned at the Happit.

* * *  
::Well?:: Vegeta snapped, somehow understanding without needing to be told that she could hear his thoughts if he projected them towards her. ::What is it you want? And why the hell are you in my bedroom?::  
::Well, you are here. Had you not been here, I would have followed you to another place.:: she said. ::I only wished to ask you something. I was waiting for you to awaken.::  
Vegeta stayed silent, by this indicating that she should go on.  
::Is it truth that my Chosen is the same as this 'Goku' he speaks of?:: she demanded, inching towards him on her stomach.  
::No. He is not the same person as Kakkarot. However,:: Vegeta added, sensing that she needed to know this, ::They were born as the same person.::  
::Damn!:: The Happit hissed. And then she stood, vaulted over Vegeta using her wings to steady herself, landed with a plopping noise on the floor, and exited the room.  
This was the only time the Prince would ever hear her use profanity. It is not the Happit's way to spit curses.  
He looked over at Bulma, who stretched, yawned, and then slipped out of the bed. She hadn't noticed his silent dialogue with Carrot's new companion--which was quite understandable, as she was never too observant in the morning hours unless she'd been up all night; and besides, the point of telepathic communication was so that no one else could hear.  
He stayed there for a full half-hour trying to reason out Lady's reaction to his answer before he bothered to go downstairs for breakfast. And he only did that because his stomach was rumbling quite loudly in complaint.

* * *  
Vegeta promptly lost his appetite when he saw his daughter.  
It had never, ever, occurred to him that his daughter would want to wear a dress like that, far less that she would actually do it.  
He had never seen her look like . . . that.  
She wore a plain black gown that clung to her as if it were part of her body until her waist, and then flared out. It was not in possession of shoulders, and it fit her very well. Too well, Vegeta thought, a sudden rush of something he had never felt quite this way before making him want to order her to get dressed in something more modest right now--never mind the fact that her current attire was not, technically, indecent.  
Vegeta then glanced at his wife. "You look beautiful!" Bulma exclaimed, continuing to babble on as Bra twirled around. Bra's hair appeared fuller, brighter, and more blue than ever; Vegeta wondered how that had come about.  
Vegeta scowled and, crossing his arms over his chest, skulked out of the house.  
Or, rather, tried.  
Before he even got out of the hallway, he was assaulted by his mate, who informed him that since it was such an important occasion as a thirtieth birthday party, he would be going, and he would be going in a tux. End of discussion.  
What discussion? the Saiyan Prince wondered as Bulma disappeared into the living room. He couldn't remember being part of whatever 'discussion' she was talking about . . .  
He did not like his 'tux'. It was too tight; it itched; he had to wear similar tight, itching shoes with it; and he couldn't fight in it without getting Bulma's tongue at full blast after or during said fight.  
Oh, well, he thought after a few minutes of despairing inwardly at the idea, at least I'll be able to keep an eye on Bra.  
Because, somehow, he thought that there were others who might realize just how nice his daughter looked--and these observers would not be a protective father.  
Vegeta's eyes turned into narrow slits as he considered this further.


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

The skies were dark, shadowed not by storm-clouds but by the promise of them brought by way of the winds. In this place, where the land, sky, and sea reflected the basic condition of matters, even mere promise of storm was a very serious matter. Not to be taken lightly was the fury of thunder.  
Neither to be taken lightly were strange coincidences that involved little Saiyans who had no part to play in what he had planned showing up three hours before the winds vouched for a tempest. Or, specifically, one little Saiyan whose value and risk factors were enigmas.  
The unexpected child sat on the wall, the old and decrepit part of the wall that had yet to be restored to the glory of the remainder of it. He sat beside an inside corner of that wall, arms crossed and legs swinging back and forth, feet occasionally hitting the wall. His brow furrowed, his tail lashed back and forth in the empty air behind him, and the scowl on his face said in a very clear voice that he was thinking hard, which was, for a Saiyan brat, quite an accomplishment in itself. But further, if one gazed into his eyes, one might find the spark of great intelligence within them and know that if this Saiyan thought long and hard enough, an answer would come to him, and it would be the right answer.  
He and the Other are very alike in that, the Tester thought. Very alike, indeed. There is a relation. Such things are not coincidence; such things are never anything other than pieces of the same puzzle.  
It was five full seconds, five full movements of the clock's most active hand, before the Tester quite realized that he had thought 'other' as 'Other', and thus given another Saiyan brat more importance than the child should have had; more significance, indeed, than the Tester had ever planned the Other should have. It was not safe to so name a child whose very existence could be forgotten at the Tester's first whim.  
But this new child, this one's birth, life, and death could not be snuffed out at the Tester's will; it had been tested. The Tester could do nothing to this child, try as he might; he did not even know the youngling's name!  
Which means, he thought as he shifted his feet and glared at the not-yet-a-danger that sat on his wall, I should ask for it. Perhaps I know him, or of him. I am the Tester, after all, and if this Saiyan is an important one, I will find where to examine the time-line for clues of the reason for his presence here by my question.  
Unconsciously, his wings tightened around himself as he went forward. A great fear came over him, lodging in his throat and making breathing quite difficult until he had swallowed fifteen times. He closed his eyes, opened them, walked forward again only to feel the fear once more. So this time, he closed his eyes and kept them closed as he went towards the child. The fear came again, but it was not so powerful as to freeze his movement forward, and he continued until he heard the child's voice.  
"You are the Tester, are you not?" a voice asked, the slightest of familiar accents twisting the important parts of the words he spoke.  
::I am.:: the Tester confirmed, now opening his eyes. He found the child's face level with his own, and their eyes locked in death's grip.  
"I have a message." The little Saiyan continued after nodding curtly. "From Them to you. They say, They claim, that your death is to come Soon, and you will Pay for locking them away."  
The Tester could hear the irregular capitalization in those words, and felt unadulterated terror in place of his fear.  
"They say that They will Tear you Apart, not Limb by Limb but Sliver by Sliver, until you are nothing but Little Shreds. That is what They say. And They are near--too near. You should go. I will block Their way." Then the little Saiyan snickered. "They look very stupid. I think I can hold them off--easily."  
::You think?:: the Tester growled. ::Life does not continue because of little brats with too-large egos; as a matter of fact, that is too often how life ends.::  
The boy considered this, and his eyes grew wide with the possibility of life endings. "Erm . . . in that case, we'll both go, and if They catch up, They can kill you while I run." He nodded in agreement with his statement, the look on his face of the serious variety only young children are quite capable of, but his tail curled up and slapped against the wall with mirth.   
The Tester knew how to read a Saiyan's tail. After all, who gave the Saiyans tails, hmm? This little Saiyan apparently thought he was the most intelligent, funniest Saiyan alive, and he was likely praising himself inwardly for his ability to keep a straight face, too.  
Odd that such a young child would possess even half a hint of that wicked humor, particularly since it was inherit only to a few Saiyan families--all Saiyans laughed, but only a few really understood the concept of humor, rolling-on-the-ground-holding-one's-stomach-and-wondering-when-one's-spasms-of-laughter-would-let-breathing-be-possible-again humor. However, not all the Saiyans who understood this concept would actually engage in the act of laughing that hard. Pride, after all, was an inherent Saiyan trait that wasn't usually tossed away unless falling off a cliff--and losing a few brain cells and IQ points as a result--was involved.  
"Can we go now?" the child asked, his tail wrapping around his waist as he glanced over his shoulder and blanched at something only he could discern in the endless plain of snow that had long ago claimed this world and the lives of all animals and trees. "They're coming . . . and They may be stupid, but They're fast--and speed means strength . . ."  
::Let us leave this place then.:: the Tester agreed. He fell to his knees and indicated with the motion of one great claw that the boy should scramble onto his neck. The little Saiyan did, and with a great roar for dramatic emphasis, the Black Dragon spread his wings and entered the air. With a mighty roar and a spurt of violet flame from his mouth, the Tester called forth the Gate that would take him to the one place in this existence where this mess could perhaps be understood and resolved:  
Earth.

* * *  
"Don't you dare drop that, Brussels Sprouts!" Bra ordered as she shoved the rectangular cake-box into Carrot's arms. "If you do, I'll, I'll--" she stopped for a moment, her face twisted up as she considered possible threats, "--I'll learn how to go Super Saiyan and splatter your insides on the walls, that's what I'll do!"  
"That would be so cool!" Carrot exclaimed. "I've never seen a girl go Super Sai--" he shut his mouth at her glare, and decided that it was probably not a good idea to continue with that line of thought. Bra was not in a good mood--already she had attacked Vegeta for rolling his eyes at her first mention of Goten; Lady because the dog had tripped Bra, which resulted in mud all over Bra's dress; and Carrot because he hadn't been quite able to keep himself from examining a corner of Goten's wrapped up present with the tip of his tail. The only reason she hadn't attacked Bulma was that her mother was very busy reassuring her daughter, telling her how beautiful she looked, how pretty the wrapping paper on Goten's present was, and how good the cake looked. This did not seem to cheer Bra up--but Bulma was trying, which was more than could be said for Vegeta, Carrot, and Lady, who were busy staying out of the blue-haired girl's way.  
"Still, it would be cool!" he confided in a strained whisper to Lady when Bra was--hopefully--out of earshot. "Wouldn't it?"  
The pup didn't give any hint of answer--she had already begun to shake and nod her head at questions, and tomorrow Carrot was going to try to figure out a more complicated sort of sign language for them to use--and ducked behind him when Bra brushed past them, still glaring. "Coward!" Carrot accused as he tried to loosen his bow tie with one hand while dangerously balancing the cake with the other.  
Bra saw what he was doing, which resulted in her taking the cake away from him, chasing him through the house with threats of doing painful things to his tail, and basically acting like Vegeta and Bulma fused together--I'd rather not even think about that! That would be bad!--very, very angry.  
Bra didn't normally get angry. Normally, she sat in front of her computer all day, hitting keys, occasionally cursing when she saw something she didn't like. Sure, sometimes she would lose her temper then blow up something or spill blood, but she was never this cranky.  
Carrot sat on the roof of Capsule Corp. later, a new tux on because Bra had blown the other one into shreds, and two new black eyes as well as what felt like--but wasn't, because Bulma had announced them only bruised--about five broken ribs. He glared at the puppy sprawled beside him.  
"I'm going to push you off or something." he grumbled. "Make you learn how to fly. Coward! Dogs are supposed to be loyal!"  
The pup snorted and rolled over on her back, closed her eyes as if she would sleep.  
Carrot took a cue from her and leaned back, hands behind his head. He stared at clouds, and in his mind they began to form shapes. It was a while before he realized that they were horrible shapes, dark shapes. The clouds took the forms of the things that scare you in the night, what you're afraid of when you turn off the lights and vault under the covers to shiver there without logical reason until you fall asleep.  
Darkness enveloped him, and he almost cried out, but at the last moment gritted his teeth. Then came the pain, just a dull pain in his head at first, that grew sharp and new, that hurt more than anything had ever hurt before . . .  
That was when Lady yelped, and he felt sharp teeth bear down on his hand. His eyes snapped open, and the fluffy white shapes of clouds--normal clouds, not those that told of nightmarish evils--greeted him.   
He trembled, and his tail clutched his middle so hard that he could barely breathe. He gulped, and found that he had no spit to swallow. Then another possibility occurred to him, and he looked down. Luckily, it takes more than two minutes of that purest terror to make a Saiyan's bowels loosen--  
As a matter of fact, it takes three minutes.

* * *  
The little Saiyan cried out when the great, swirling darkness enveloped him, and clutched the Tester's neck with all the strength in his little limbs--which made the great Dragon wheeze and suggest that he let go.  
"Gomen nasai . . ." the child whispered, not letting go entirely--that would mean most certain death, for only the Black Dragon could travel through the Gate and live. As the little Saiyan must have realized, he would only be spared from that horrible death if he remained perched where he was at the base of the Tester's neck. "So sorry . . ."  
::It is forgiven.:: The Tester announced after not even a moment's note. He could hear the whisper of his wings as they beat away from his sides, the only sound here now other than his breathing and the child's. ::Now, youngling, we should make conversation, else the silence of this place ring too loudly in your ears. Let us start by introduction, hmm? I am the Tester, often known as the Black Dragon. And you . . .::  
"My name is Vegeta Wolvwin."

* * *  
"Vegeta, you get him down!" Bulma screeched, glaring down at the Prince and waving her fist threateningly at him. "Get him down right now! I mean it! Now! Carrot could fall and hurt himself--and we're late for Goten's party! He calls you his father, and you go and pull a stunt like that! You put him up there, you get him down!"  
She seemed to be forgetting the very reason Vegeta had deposited Carrot on the roof anyway--the Saiyan Prince had taken mercy on his "son", and told him that it was either the roof or the other side of the planet unless he wanted to get beaten up by Bra some more.  
"Should I be hurt that Goten's party is more important to her than I am right now?" Carrot asked aloud, seeing Bra through the car window, and gently stroking the silky fur on Lady's back as he spoke. "Nah, I don't think I'll bother--pouting is boring, and she doesn't mean it . . . I hope."  
Vegeta rolled his eyes at Bulma, and Carrot caught a glimpse of his smirk.  
"You know," Carrot commented to the pup as Vegeta made some snide comment back and Bulma started making couch-threats, "I could probably just jump off, you know, it isn't that high up here, it doesn't matter that I can't fly. But . . ." His face broke into a huge, Goku-like grin that was just a bit more malevolent than any Goku had ever managed. "It's more fun to watch the cat-fight. Hope Bulma doesn't tear Tousan apart."  
There was a plaintive whine from Lady, as though she took his statement literally. He looked down at her and added, "She can't really--it's just a figure of speech. Tousan is way too powerful for Bulma to ever have a chance to blow him into shreds or anything. Not that she wouldn't like to, but Tousan's a Saiyan and Bulma's definitely not, and that tells you something right there."  
The cocker spaniel puppy shook her head, and Carrot almost launched into an even more detailed description of why this was so--but it occurred to him that since he was good at explaining things, she would understand by now if that was it, so it must be something else.  
"Well, what is it you want, then?" Carrot questioned. "I wish you could tell me. Oh well."  
The Vegeta-and-Bulma din from below grew into an ever more unbearable one, climaxed just before Carrot jumped off the roof, and just stopped when both parties realized that Carrot was on the ground, unharmed, and had come to be there without help from anyone. Vegeta gave Bulma another smirk; she glanced around, probably looking for a two-by-four, then seemed to determine that it wouldn't hurt him anyway and just glared--first at her husband and then at Carrot, one for defying-her-as-usual and the other for delaying them in the first place.  
Carrot slid into the backseat of the car, trying to avoid Bulma's glare but feeling it on the side of his face that she could see anyway. He slumped down in his seat, hands in his pockets, trying to look sullen. He sat up straight when Bra, sitting by the other window in the back of the car, turned her head to glare at him.  
"Here, hold this, Brussels Sprouts." She ordered, lifting the cake box from the middle of the back seat and plopping it onto his lap. "Hold it with both hands this time. If you drop it, you're a dead Chibi Goku."  
'Chibi Goku'! Carrot wailed inside, She's really mad--she's calling me 'Chibi Goku'! Man, that's not fair! I'm not in the mood to die! Dying is supposed to be serene, peaceful, stuff like that . . . and . . . and . . . you're not supposed to do it at my age!  
'Brussels Sprouts' was a nickname; 'Chibi Goku' was an insult, however slight, because Bra had never bothered using it in anything other than a spiteful tone. When she used it in anger, it usually led to bloodshed--and the blood that was shed was most often his.  
She had already blessed him with two black eyes and several bruised ribs; he hoped she thought that that was enough.  
Maybe when they got to Goku's house and Goten's party, she'd be in a better mood and forget about wanting to kill him! Maybe . . .

* * *  
The Tester had managed to get young Vegeta started on a one-sided conversation about Happits--he had remembered correctly; the boy had had a slight obsession with the old legends before being kidnapped by Frieza. This gave the Black Dragon time for his own thoughts, time to organize them as well as fight back the waves of 'WHO!? HOW?! WHY NOW?! THIS RUINS EVERYTHING!' that threatened to overwhelm him.  
This most certainly did not ruin everything. It was Their coming that had done that--Chibi Vegeta was just making things more interesting. However, if he had come before signs of Them in the sky, with no message, then things would have most certainly been ruined. He was unexpected, unwanted, unplanned for . . . he was not a piece of his counterpart's test . . .  
Prince Vegeta's test! Should I even bother with it? Perhaps not . . . but then, there may be a place for it somewhere . . . if They have not already--of course they have! Is that not the first thing they always do? Fool!  
"Are you even listening?" Chibi Vegeta demanded. "I just said, 'Wouldn't it be neat if the Happits still existed?' It was a question. Questions are meant to be answered; that's what they're made for."  
Surprisingly, this was said in a matter-of-fact tone, not in the inherent superior tone the other Vegeta--the real one--too often used.  
::They do still exist, Prince Vegeta.:: He answered. ::Not in the numbers they once did--but a few of them survived the Plague.::  
And the proof, he thought to himself, is on a planet called Earth. And that proof--as you were--was unexpected. The Other was not supposed to come up with a Happit.  
Happits, however, had their own idea of what was supposed to be and what wasn't. They had never liked the Tester--he would allow that they had good reason--and whenever possible would try to foil whatever he was trying to accomplish, unless they had the same agenda. The last example of this had been their Renegades--the Tester had not liked them, for they slaughtered his Saiyans, and the Happits had not liked them for the same reason.  
"They do?" the little Saiyan bounced up and down on the Tester's neck; the Black Dragon winced, but made no comment. "Really? Wow . . . I wonder if I'll meet one?" And then young Vegeta was off in his very own dream world for about thirty seconds, until he said, "You called me 'Prince Vegeta'. And I am that. But I like Wolvwin better, really."  
That's right! You do, don't you . . . that changes later . . . but for now, it is fine.

* * *  
Goku watched his youngest son, who was staring in the mirror and trying to do something with his hair--Goku wasn't sure exactly what Goten was trying to do, but it seemed to involve a lot of muttering and an occasional muffled curse--he hoped that everyone would be here soon. It wasn't so much that he wanted to see all his friends again, though that took up a lot of the reasons for his impatience--some of his friends were people he hadn't seen in ages and really missed a lot--but that Goten was so edgy today. He'd snapped at Chi-Chi; he never snapped at his mother. He never snapped at anyone, but especially not Chi-Chi.  
Goku had thought Goten might have hurt Chi-Chi's feelings--but if anything, he seemed to have improved her mood.  
Goku wasn't entirely oblivious to the people around him. He had noticed that his son grew more edgy each time anyone mentioned Bra (Chi-Chi had been doing so a lot, and seemed to have a rare case of Chi-Chi-cheerfulness today), but he couldn't for the life of him imagine why. He was going to keep an eye on Bra and Goten when Vegeta's family got here, to maybe find the reason for it.  
There was the sound of a door slamming, and Goku looked out a window to see Bulma and Bra walking towards the house. Vegeta and Carrot were sitting in the car, Vegeta glaring at his wife and Carrot pouting. Both wore tuxedoes, rather like the one Chi-Chi had made Goku put on; Goku wondered how Bulma had made the Saiyan Prince do that.   
"They're here!" he yelled.  
Bra carried a brightly wrapped package, obviously Goten's present. Goku wondered where the cake she made every year was.  
And as if she had heard his wondering, Bra turned around, and shook her fist at Carrot--who, still pouting, stepped out of the car holding a rectangular box just the right size to hold a cake, and slammed the door so hard that it came off its hinges.  
"Who's here? Specifics, Dad!" Goten answered, turning away from the mirror.  
"Vegeta and Bulma and Bra and Carrot." Goku answered.  
Goten paled and laid his comb down on the dresser. He turned to the mirror one last time, grimaced, then went to open the door. Chi-Chi poked her head out of the kitchen and winked at Goku, as if they shared a secret.  
Goku opened his mouth to ask her a question, but closed it when Bulma rushed through the house and into the kitchen. Chi-Chi and Bulma began to talk in low voices, an occasional girlish giggle penetrating but not much else.  
Very confused, Goku scratched his head then opened the door for Carrot to carry the cake in. "Hey, where's Lady?" he asked.  
Carrot frowned. "I wasn't allowed to bring her," he explained as he set the cake on the table. "Bulma said she'd get hairs all over my clothes. I said that it wouldn't matter since Lady's fur is the color of my tux anyway, but she didn't listen to me."  
Goku sighed. He liked that puppy--she was sweet.  
After a few minutes, Goku and Carrot decided to go outside and talk to Vegeta. Chi-Chi and Bulma were having a private conversation, obvious by their whispers. Goten and Bra also seemed to be having a private conversation--and though it was a loud and enthusiastic conversation involving Bra babbling about computers and Goten getting in an occasional "What's that?" or "Hey! I remember what that is!" in, it still didn't seem like anyone else should butt in.


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

::We are here.:: the Tester announced as the darkness turned lighter, into a light blue color. ::Well--we will be, as soon as we have exited the Gate.::  
"Where is here?" Wolvwin asked.  
::A planet called Earth.::  
"Where's that?"  
::A long, long, way from where we were.::  
"That's not a good answer. That's a dodging answer." Wolvwin informed him.  
::True.:: the Tester allowed. ::And you don't like those, do you, Wolvwin?:: He didn't wait for a response for this, but continued. ::If I told you where Earth is, you wouldn't understand. It's a difficult concept for the most intelligent of Saiyans to understand, the distance from my world to any other and why I must use my Gate.::  
"Are you trying to say I'm not smart?"  
This was a predictable question, coming from someone who had in his later years developed one of the biggest egos in all Saiyan history.  
::No. You're young; it is difficult for me to explain to adult Saiyans, what you demand I explain to you now. And,:: he cut off the little Saiyan before he could be interrupted, ::the fact that you are--or were, in your own time--already nearing the power level of the average full-grown Saiyan does not mean that you can comprehend what most of them cannot.::  
"And why can't I? Is there a reason you think I'm dumb?"  
::Don't be argumentative, Prince Vegeta, for it grates my nerves.::  
"So?"  
::So, there's not been a Saiyan alive who wouldn't regret grating my nerves!::  
"Why?"  
The Tester was very grateful when, at that moment, he and Chibi Vegeta left the cold of the Gate and entered the warm skies of Earth. ::We are here,:: he announced. ::This is Earth.::  
"It's pretty." Wolvwin said, after a long silence in which his breathing could not be heard. "So green . . ."  
::You are not the first to notice that, nor will you--oh, let us pray not!--be the last.::  
"Why are we praying not? Because of Them?"  
::You ask too many questions.::  
"Maybe. And I have another one--who are They, anyway?"  
::I shall remember you asked later, when the time for answers has come.::  
"When is later?"  
::When I say so.::  
"That's another dodging answer; do you actually know when later is?"  
::Which later--the one in which I draw my next breath, or the one in which I answer questions?::  
"The second one you said."  
::Well then. That later is most likely within the day.::  
"That's too long."  
::Patience, Wolvwin.::  
"I'm not supposed to have any. I'm a Prince; I'm not supposed to have to wait until later."  
The Tester sighed. ::You're not supposed to be with me, either.::  
"I know. I was supposed to be on my way to dinner with my father. But I was in my room instead, cry--uh--sitting. Because I'm mad at him. And then I was sitting on the wall, and there were voices in my head."  
::Ah.:: the Tester shook his great scaled head slowly, then twisted his neck about to meet Chibi Vegeta's eyes. ::Are the voices you speak of still there?::  
"No." Wolvwin seemed to quail, just a bit, at the sight of golden eyes the size of his head; he hadn't done so before, and that was the proof that his negative was truth. Fear of the Tester was something every Saiyan possessed deep within, and something that only left them when They were near or when circumstance had caused the Black Dragon and a Saiyan to become close.  
::Good.::

* * *  
Lady couldn't remember why she had been so uneasy.  
It wasn't that she was worried about what she had forgotten--it was that she had forgotten something in the first place. Yes, it had been something important--but she couldn't remember what it was, which was, in short, a very bad thing.  
It had to do with the Tester. She thought it did, anyway, for she felt his presence as clearly as if he hung directly above her head. And there was also something to do with Carrot, and Kakkarot too. And Vegeta Wolvwin, the Saiyan Prince.  
She shook her head violently until it pained her, trying with all her might to remember.  
Something, someone, was interfering with her thought process. There was no other explanation, because Lady was not an old Happit. She was not young, and she was not old; she was in-between. Old Happits, and sometimes very young Happits, would sometimes forget things. Those in their mid-life did not, except in very rare, very serious cases.  
Tcha! What is this? She wailed inwardly, trying to break the gray wall between her and the information she so needed. What power is this, to enter my mind?  
She had not anticipated this in the search for her Chosen.  
She needed to speak with the Prince, but he was not here. He was far from here, at Kakkarot's hearth. Lady did not know the way there.  
But if she could feel the presence of her Chosen, and if she just went towards it . . .  
She would eventually get there. The question she should ask was 'Is it worthwhile to travel all that way and risk the Prince leaving before I get there?'  
She asked herself that question. The answer was yes. It had to be; there was no other way. She could not just wait here, wait for that darkness to snatch something up. She had to do something. And rushing to her Chosen's side was a better something than saying 'Oh well' and falling asleep--true, the latter was an attractive option, but the first was the right one.  
Her wings fluttered against her sides, tickling, teasing, as she left Capsule Corp. at a flat-out run. Lady wished that she could fly.

* * *  
Vegeta leaned against the wall and glared at the various occupants of the room. Kakkarot, his mate, and his younger son had been there before Vegeta and family had arrived. Kakkarot's older son had shown up with his wife and daughter in tow. Krillin and Juuhachi-gou had come as well. Only Trunks and Marron had yet to get there, probably because Vegeta's purple-haired son had taken to driving his wife places as opposed to flying--according to him, this was because he didn't want to drop her in her condition. Six months along was no time to risk something bad happening.  
Apparently, Vegeta, his mate, his daughter, and Carrot had been early by three hours--also apparently, that had been intentional on Bulma's part. No surprise there; he knew how that woman had interpreted his daughter's mood swing, and he agreed with her, actually, except that he didn't approve of it. It made too much sense for an overprotective father's comfort.  
Yes, he was overprotective. He would admit that to himself, if to no one else.  
He couldn't care less about Trunks' love life, true, and hadn't paid much attention to his son's marriage to Marron (although he had paid noticeable attention when told that he was going to be a grandpa, and had actually ventured to ask when the due date was.). Also true, his son was a Super Saiyan and could be trusted to make fair decisions. Further true, Bra was not a Super Saiyan, and was too much like her kaasan to have much good sense at all. Maybe Bulma had had some measure of wisdom as far as mate choosing went, but the Prince had no intention of assuming that his daughter would as well.  
Of course, he would never say any of this aloud to anyone else, except perhaps the part about not caring about his son's love life. If he did admit to being too protective of his daughter, Bulma would say something sarcastic and along the lines of 'Daddy's Little Girl', which was not something Vegeta wanted to have to listen to. Therefore, if asked why he didn't like the idea, he would simply make a comment along the lines of 'My daughter is not going to take a peasant's son as her mate. No. Absolutely not. I won't allow it!'  
And he was going to stand here and act like he normally acted: sullen and grumpy and Vegeta-like. Which was very easy to do, as that was how he normally acted when wearing a tux.  
"For all I care, you can die too! Leave me as an orphan, see if I give a damn!"  
"Be quiet, boy! You don't know what you're talking about!"  
"Yes, I do! She's dead, and it's your fault!"  
"Mine! Mine! And how is the fault mine?"  
Vegeta shook his head; beads of sweat appeared on his forehead as he placed the memory. Why should he remember that now? That was an old hurt, and not one of the great ones, either; why should it be as sharp in his chest as the later, more terrible ones? Why, he couldn't have been older than Carrot when his mother had--  
He shook his head again, blinking back tears--tears!--and cursing inwardly at whatever the reason and when he opened them the threat of crying was gone.  
But why had it been there in the first place?  
Vegeta's attention thoroughly shifted from his daughter and Kakkarot's son to this new and unexplained difficulty, this hurt, that was suddenly so fresh in his mind. He closed his eyes for an eternity of five seconds, in his normally quite stable--if ill liked by some people--emotional state. He had that nagging little voice in his head as he thought about this situation, the voice that always informed him that no amount of thinking would help him understand this, that it would have to be explained by someone else, someone older and wiser than he.  
Vegeta had never appreciated situations that must be explained by someone else, nor did he appreciate this one.  
And, blast it all, there was nothing he could do about it.


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Wolvwin put his hands over his ears and trembled; when the pain in his head reached its peak, he screamed. The Tester jerked to a stop, a strange feeling. Dragons should not stop in midair; they are meant to fly.  
::What is it?:: the Black Dragon asked, knowing full well what it was, knowing full well what it had to be.  
Wolvwin felt what the Tester knew, and Wolvwin resented him for it. He resented the Tester a lot.  
Therefore, headache still pounding in his ears, Wolvwin snarled and leapt into thin air. He ignored the Dragon's loud and frantic protest at this action. He was almost pleased to note that his headache immediately faded into memory as he blazed away from the Tester.  
He was aware, vaguely, in a five-year-old sort of way, that there was something more than a little bit sinister about that pain, as though something didn't want him to be near the Black Dragon--and therefore, he should not have flown off. But, being a Saiyan, a Prince, and an earlier version of another hardheaded Saiyan Prince, he predictably ignored good sense in order to do what he wanted to do: which was to get far away from the Tester. He had heard stories of the Tester, and if this was his test, he would far prefer to duck out on it. According to the stories, these tests very rarely involved one's ability to fight, and so he was not interested. He did not like the idea of dying without a fight--and the stories told of too many deaths come from the Tester's whim.  
Neither form of Wolvwin Vegeta had yet realized that the Tester was not the all-mighty being he was portrayed as in legend. His power was close to that, but it was not there yet, nor would it ever be. And, believe it or no, and no Saiyan ever would believe it, the Tester was very mortal. Consequently, his power was limited, as was his perception of a situation that had not been carefully and accurately outlined to him. He had no idea what was going on. He had less understanding of the situation than Wolvwin did--and Wolvwin had no idea that he was in a time over half a century ahead of where he'd been. As far as he was concerned, the Planet Vegeta still orbited its sun, his father still lived, and Frieza was nothing more than a name his father occasionally mentioned when bellowing red-faced at underlings. As far as he was concerned, the way to get back home was to find a spaceship and get off this too-green, sweet-smelling planet.  
But there was no home for him, this Prince of all Saiyans. Not as he was, not so young and heartsick; home was where the memory of his mother remained. And though it was rare for a Saiyan child to be allowed extensive contact with his mother, Wolvwin had been allowed to know her; and he had only done what was natural--that is, he had loved her as a child loves, without hesitation and with his whole heart. She had died for that, because such a bond was dangerous according to those Saiyans who make the rules, and now he was alone; if he were home, he would not feel so empty, because her memory resided there, in a way that it never would anywhere else.  
This was very like the reasoning of a child, and as such it made perfect sense to the little Saiyan. It should not have, for it was not his own.  
But this logic was overcome, if for less than an hour, by the intoxicating feeling of wind rushing past and the sun on his face. As he flew in no particular direction for a while he forgot about her and thought only about how fun flying was in such a pretty place.  
This was a blessing, for if childhood abandon had not been more powerful than any other pull that can be exerted on one of the young, Vegeta Wolvwin would not have registered the thunder of a waterfall. He would not have flown towards it, remembering the small falls on his own planet, would not have been there to marvel at the size of that thing.  
And he would not have accidentally slammed into a tall, green, pointy-eared man who was floating by said waterfall.  
But, as he was a child and did decide to have a little fun and to inspect the great waterfall, he did bump into Piccolo, and therefore set very important events in motion.  
He was not cognizant of the impact this meeting would have. All he was aware of was that there was suddenly a very big Namek frowning at him. He was also remembering certain incidents involving aliens he had bumped into or otherwise offended in which the various bodyguards assigned him--the bodyguards he made a point of slipping away from because they were too stupid to stop him and he didn't need them anyway--had had to inform the affronted individual that it was not allowed to strangle, blow up, decapitate, quarter, or otherwise injure the Prince. All but two of these times, Wolvwin had been in very great danger of being strangled, blown up, decapitated, quartered, or otherwise injured, and only the interference of his unneeded bodyguards had prevented that.  
He thought he might have offended this now scowling Namek, and so made a very hasty apology, whirled around, and darted through the air in the direction from which he'd come. And for a bare five seconds, he thought that the Namek would leave him alone--  
But it was not to be.  
"Hey, kid! Come back! I need to ask you something!"  
Wolvwin glanced over his shoulder at the Namek, decided that all the green man wanted to ask was what his last request was, and tried to force more speed out of his already aching, tender young body.

* * *  
Bra was listening to Goten's account of his latest spar with her brother, which seemed greatly exaggerated as it involved a detailed description of Trunks' broken and battered body after Goten was done raining attack upon attack on him. Bra happened to know that Trunks' body had not been in the least bit battered and broken on the day which Goten claimed he had beaten his best friend half to death; Trunks had been over for a visit an hour after the mentioned spar, and he'd not had any visible bruises. As a matter of fact, Trunks' version of the story had involved a detailed description of Goten's broken and battered body, and when Goten had come over he'd been wearing bandages and casts on various parts of his anatomy.  
But she wasn't going to nitpick. Goten was so enthusiastic about this. Besides, it was interesting to listen to his exaggerating, especially when he got to the parts that involved explosions, because then his face would light up and he would stutter like a little kid in his excitement.  
And he was very, very adorable when he stuttered.  
Bra blushed when she realized that she was gazing dreamily at Goten. She sat up straight in her chair, and further blushed when he stopped in mid-sentence, having noticed her reddened face. He studied her for a minute; she proceeded to scowl at him, and felt immediately guilty when he hesitantly began his story again. This time, though, he was not so loud or excited-sounding and also withheld eye contact, with only an occasional worried glance at her face.  
She was relieved when Trunks, accompanied by Marron, walked through the front door. Goten seemed relieved as well, for he jumped out of his seat and greeted Marron with a too-loud "Hi, Trunks! Hi, Marron! You sure are coming along! That baby looks like it could come any minute, your stomach is getting so big!"  
Bra was immediately torn between bursting into laughter and informing Goten at the top of her lungs that that was not the compliment to give a pregnant woman.  
Marron was not torn between either of those two; she burst into tears and fled out of the door. Trunks sent Goten an 'I'm-going-to-kill-you-you-jerk' look, then followed his wife.  
Goten was immediately informed by Chi-Chi, Bulma, and Juuhachi-gou, at the top of their lungs, that he had said the worst possible thing to a pregnant woman that could be said, and didn't he know anything about how a woman's mind works? They guessed he didn't, so they were going to give him an education.  
Chi-Chi, Bulma, and Juuhachi-gou ushered Goten into the kitchen, and Bra was left looking from the front door to the kitchen and back again.  
"That was very stupid of him, wasn't it?" Pan remarked.  
Oh, Pan was here! Bra brightened at the welcome sight of her friend. "Very," she agreed.  
"Do you have any idea what's going on?" Pan asked, peering at Bra. "Dad mentioned something about you and Goten when he came to my apartment telling me I should come to this party--said it was very important and I wouldn't want to miss it. So, I put on a dress--the dress was mom's idea--" she added, gesturing to the pretty, shoulder-less blue thing she wore. "--and came."  
Bra blushed; Pan peered at her harder. "You've been talking to him all evening, did you know that? No one else has been able to get either of your attentions for the last two hours. And all you've been talking about is computers and fighting, nothing in the slightest bit romantic."  
Bra thought that maybe her blush was turning purple by now.  
Pan let it go with a shrug, but even when their conversation turned to a subject far from that of her uncle, she kept glancing over at the kitchen and back at Bra with an halfway smug, halfway questioning, expression.

* * *  
Piccolo wasn't one-hundred-percent positive of this kid's identity, but he could guess. Not being brain-dead, he had immediately realized several things immediately upon the sudden appearance of this kid.  
One, this kid had a tail.  
Two, he had black hair.  
Three, this kid looked a lot like Vegeta--and Vegeta had no offspring with black hair or a tail.  
Four, if there was a Chibi Goku running around, why couldn't there be a Chibi Vegeta? It made sense that there would be two of them, it created a sort of balance.  
This three-second, four-part hypothesis was all very well and nice; but it needed to be proved, and proof could be provided by the Vegeta look-alike who was currently flying in the opposite direction.  
"Come back!" Piccolo repeated. "I need to ask you something!"  
The kid did not turn back; this time, he didn't even glance over his shoulder.  
He would have to find another way to talk to the kid. Said other way involved making the Saiyan stop.  
That shouldn't be too difficult, considering the youngster's low-feeling power level.

* * *  
"Put me down!" Wolvwin yelped, dangling from the Namek's right hand by his collar. "Right now! My father will have your head for this if you don't let me go!" He conveniently ignored the fact that he hated his father; even disliked people could be used for persuasion, after all.  
He kicked at the Namek's stomach and pulled his foot back with an oath. That hurt.  
"Let me go," Wolvwin repeated. "Right now."  
The Namek dropped him, but snatched him up again when he attempted to fly away.  
"What is it you want?" Wolvwin demanded sullenly, thinking that if it had been the green man's intention to kill him he would already be dead.  
"I want to know what your name is."  
"Oh, that. It's Vegeta Wolvwin."  
"I thought so." This time, the Namek did not let him go. "In that case, we're going to Goku's house. Maybe he knows something about all this."  
"Waitaminute!" Wolvwin protested. "I'm not going anywhere!"  
He was wrong.

* * *  
"Hi, Sprouts," came a friendly voice from behind. Carrot turned around to meet Trunks' blue eyes and grinned.  
"Hi, Trunks," he said. "Is Marron okay?"  
"She'll be fine." The purple-haired man shrugged. "She's very emotional lately; according to mom, it's normal and I shouldn't worry that she'll really make me sleep on the couch until the kid's eighteen."  
Carrot snorted in laughter. "She banished you to the couch? What did you do?"  
"Absolutely nothing."  
"Really."  
"Really!" Trunks evidently decided that this conversation was in need of a subject change, for his next words were, "So, what's this about a dog?"  
"Oh, Lady!" Carrot didn't really mind that Trunks was dodging if this was the way he skirted the subject of his wife punishing him. "She's a puppy, really little, and she's got wings! She's really smart, too!"  
"So, where is she?"  
"At home. Bulma-san wouldn't let me bring her."  
"Oh." Trunks certainly was one who understood the concept of 'if-Bulma-says-something-that's-the-way-it-is.' She was his mother, after all.  
"What are you going to name the baby?" Carrot asked, switching the subject back to Trunks. This was an interesting subject to him; Trunks was almost like a brother, though not exactly, and this new baby would make Carrot almost like an uncle.  
"We don't know yet. We don't even know if it's a boy or a girl--Marron wants to be surprised." Trunks shrugged. "We'll think of something, I'm sure."  
"Mm-hmm," Carrot murmured.  
"Well, Sprouts, I'm starving," Trunks announced, gesturing towards the dinner table, set for fourteen. Goku and Vegeta were already seated. Goku looked like he thought he was starving too, but in a very frantic-Goku sort of way that involved worried glances towards the kitchen at intervals of half a second. Vegeta also looked impatient at the delay Goten's incredibly dense remark had caused.  
"Me too." Carrot agreed, stomach rumbling. He then noticed something. "Hey, Trunks, I think you were supposed to dress up. Everyone else is."   
He was referring to Trunks' lack of either an uncomfortable tuxedo or tight-looking black shoes. The purple-haired man was instead wearing jeans with a plain gray sweatshirt over--which appeared much more comfortable than what Bulma had made Carrot wear.  
Trunks took a long look at Carrot, noted that he was indeed dressed up, then glanced back inside the house at Vegeta and Goku, both dressed up. He whistled, long and low. "Dad's wearing his tux! Gee, I guess I'd better--"  
Then their attention was caught by another scene through a different window. Goten stumbled out of the kitchen, walked up to Bra, and tapped her shoulder. When she turned around, Goten was on one knee.  
Carrot's eyes widened, and he jumped in an open window to get a better view. He didn't notice that he was grinning, almost literally from ear to ear. He also didn't notice Trunks' sudden disappearance from beside him.

* * *  
Vegeta was still thinking, still running over the events of long ago, still trying to puzzle out the reason for sudden return of old memories.  
He was beginning to get bored with the wondering; after all, he had no clue as to what was going on. Normally, that would have frustrated him, but he just had a feeling this time . . .  
Kakkarot's eyes widened at something to the side, and Vegeta glanced over--  
And saw Goten on one knee, a black box in one hand, opening the box, saying something to Bra.  
Vegeta pushed back his chair, stood, and was very ready to go into Super Saiyan mode when he saw the look on Bra's face.  
She was glowing, not literally but with the unseen aura around her that Vegeta had never noticed there before. It took him a moment to recognize it, but once he did he realized that he could not just fly in there and tell her that there was no way she was going to say yes to Goten's question. For one thing, she would say yes just because he forbade it; for another thing, if he ended up killing Goten, or even if he only slapped the boy around a little, his daughter wouldn't like it at all. And somewhere along the line, they had gotten to the point of 'what-Bra-wants-Bra-gets-or-Bra-starts-crying-to-make-Tousan-feel-visibly-guilty-and-thereby-embarrasing-him-very-much'.  
And it just was not going to happen; he just couldn't.  
Vegeta felt a strange weight in his chest as he turned towards the door.   
He was leaving.  
He did not think he could stand to watch this.  
Well, at least, he thought he was leaving. But a sound from behind caught his attention and he turned--  
To see Trunks in Super Saiyan mode slam Goten into the far wall, thereby demolishing said wall. "I thought I told you to stay away from her!" he shouted, slamming a fist into Goten's stomach.  
This was so unexpected that for a moment Vegeta's brain refused to work, just refused to acknowledge this turn of events.  
Then he realized that his son was doing basically the same thing to Kakkarot's son that he would have liked to do.  
"Hey! Stop it!" Kakkarot vocalized, blazing into the other room, placing himself between the two. "Trunks, what--"  
Trunks bypassed Kakkarot and slammed into Goten again; this time, he was met by the other's fists, and soon the two were trying to get at each other's throats. An occasional "Trunks, you jerk, what's the matter with you . . ." could be heard from Bra's direction.   
It didn't take long before Pan entered the fight on Goten's side; not a minute after that, Carrot was in the midst of it.  
Vegeta watched all of this with an apathetic expression on his face, not really caring about it because it didn't seem that important--for some strange reason.  
It became much more important when a ki blast meant for Goten's face diverged course with a blow from the back of Goten's hand, and instead of hitting Goten hit Carrot.  
Vegeta roared, a mindless, wordless sound that made everyone just stop, Pan's hands positioned an inch from Trunks' neck, Trunks with a fist half an inch from Goten's face, Goten with hands in a position for a Kame Kame Ha.  
Carrot fell to the floor, a dark pool of blood forming from the great gash in his side.  
"Oh no!" Goten yelped.  
"Oh no!" Trunks echoed.  
"I think this has gone far enough." Gohan said as Vegeta picked Carrot up. "Pan, please don't strangle Trunks. He didn't intend to hurt Goten for one single moment." His eyes narrowed at Trunks, as if to say 'You'd better not have meant any of it'.  
Vegeta wondered what Gohan meant, but he had no time to ask; he had to get Carrot to a hospital. He'd lived on Earth long enough to know that hospitals were incredibly useful places in the case that you had an emergency and didn't have anything quicker at healing.  
"You'd better," he addressed the now-guilty-looking Gohan, Goten, and Trunks, "have a damned good answer for this when I come back for it later. Or I will take the answer out of your blood. Painfully."  
So saying, he flew off at top speed, not stopping for anyone or anything, and certainly not for the Happit who yelped at him to stop or the Namek who did the same.


	11. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Lady gazed after the Prince; it took her a moment to realize that he was carrying her Chosen in his arms, and that her Chosen was hurt--badly.  
When this realization came, her eyes glowed red, and with a howl of rage she hurdled after the Prince with no thought to her now cracked and bleeding feet.  
It was then that she realized what thought she had forgotten, what terror had made her edgy; it was not one, it was two, but two intertwined as if two strings to make a cord.  
The first was the shadow that had been in her heart first, the realization that her Chosen was in very great danger, the very feeling that had caused her to choose him in the first place.  
The second was what had threatened since long before her Chosen, that had not been the shadow of worry but a guarantee of what was yet to come.  
The Nameless. They were here.  
The Tester was here.  
Her Chosen was Kakkarot's doppelganger.  
And, she realized suddenly, there was a twin Prince Vegeta essence from a nearby place, a ki much less powerful than the Prince's, much younger. His double?  
He had a doppelganger?  
Oh dear. This was not good.  
Lady was torn between following the essence of the new Vegeta or the old one who was bearing her Chosen; after a moment of thought, it occurred to her that they were going in the exact same direction. The old Vegeta was just moving at a far greater speed than the new one. This made sense. For one thing, her Prince was carrying a bleeding, badly injured Carrot; the other Prince was not carrying anyone, and certainly not Kakkarot, who was the only other version of Carrot.  
As a matter of fact, if she focused her mind, she could catch a slippery image of the new Vegeta, and he was being carried, and none too gently, by the Namek known as Piccolo.  
And then Piccolo's ki turned around and began to head towards where her Chosen had been before being injured.  
And Lady was left to make the decision she thought she'd been relieved of.

* * *  
Bra had just finished informing Goten that the day she agreed to marry him was the day that she took it upon herself to make the Earth go boom after wishing for immortality, which would also be the day she decided to take over the universe and travel around in a little Saiyan space pod.  
Trunks took this to mean 'no', and sighed.  
This was not the effect they'd wanted.  
Maybe they shouldn't have told Bra the reason he had 'attacked' Goten until after she gave an answer.  
Then again, knowing her temperament, she would have thrown the ring in Goten's face with about five different curses, which was still a 'no', if a delayed one.  
It was a long minute afterwards, in which Goten looked like he was about to burst into tears, Goku looked really upset even though he hadn't really understood the explanation Trunks had given, Gohan was trying to look innocent and harmless (and wasn't succeeding very well, obviously, due to the 'how could you give them such an idea?!' glares he was getting from Bulma, Chi-Chi, and Videl.), and Krillin was very quiet and kept glancing over at the puddle of blood that Carrot had left with a very pale face, that Trunks realized that Marron was glaring at him. He smiled at her and shrugged; her glare grew harder, and he started to sweat. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, looked away, and when he looked back at her she was still glaring.  
Huh. He was in big trouble, wasn't he?  
He gulped and sent her a pleading look.  
She shook her head and crossed her arms.  
But I don't like the couch! He protested inwardly. The couch is evil!  
And it was, too. It was lumpy in some places and sagged in others, as well as being too short for his body, which meant either that his feet hung off the end of it or his head did.  
Said evil couch was a direct relative of the couch Bulma kept at Capsule Corp. for the specific reason of banishing Vegeta to it about one night a week. Trunks knew it was, because there had used to be two couches like that, but the second one had disappeared around the time Trunks turned fourteen. He had inquired as to what had become of it; his mother had answered that it was stored away until such time as he got married, at which point it would be given to his wife. He hadn't believed it, for she had said it in that teasing tone. However, he had had cause to doubt his old beliefs regarding where it had disappeared to when it had somehow appeared in his living room the first night Marron had kicked him out of their bedroom.  
He sent Marron another of those pleading looks. She rolled her eyes and shook her head again.  
This was going to take major down-on-both-knees groveling, obviously. But it was better than the couch. He liked waking up beside her, the first sensation of the morning her warmth as she snuggled up against his chest or back. It was the best feeling in the world, no doubt about that. And it was the worst feeling in the world to wake up without it.  
Therefore, he was going to beg.  
He might as well begin now; there was nothing better to do besides follow his father to the hospital or try to get back on Bra's good side. Carrot was fine, the kid's ki wasn't flickering or anything, and if he tried to placate Bra he might get his head knocked off; therefore, there was exactly one constructive activity left.  
He walked over to his wife, batted his lashes, and said, "Please forgive me?"  
"Uh-uh. You're sleeping on the couch," she said, deepening her glare.  
"But Sweetheart--"  
"Don't start that 'Sweetheart' stuff; loving up on me doesn't work, Trunks. You don't call me 'Sweetheart' on a normal day, so don't start now," she admonished, though there was a flicker of something almost like amusement in her eyes.  
"But . . ." Trunks trailed off, tried to find a place where he could redeem himself. "I was working in the interest of love! I didn't do anything wrong, so you can't make me sleep on the couch!"  
He knew as he said it that it was the wrong thing to say. Even if he could convince her she shouldn't banish him to the couch now, she would just to prove him wrong.  
"Oh I can't, can I?" she asked fiercely, poking him in the chest so that he stumbled backwards a step. She waved a finger in his face. "I can't? Seems to me, oh husband of mine, that I can make you sleep anywhere I want to. Including the floor. But I'm making you sleep on the couch, so that is where you will be sleeping, Buster. Or else."  
Trunks did not want to know what 'or else' was, so he didn't ask. "But . . ." he trailed off yet again, stepping towards her. "What if I don't want to sleep on the couch, huh? What if I want to sleep beside my wonderful, beautiful, perfect wife? Hmm? Are you going to deny me that privilege?"  
"Hai, that's right," she answered promptly.  
He looked down at her stomach and ran a hand teasingly over it as he continued. "You would do that? To me? Gee, and I thought you liked having me there. Guess I was wrong."  
He was treading dangerously, now; she had burst into tears at an earlier point in pregnancy at a similar statement he had made.  
She growled at him and said, "Hai, I would do that to you. I'm a cruel woman."  
"I noticed," he replied. There was a movement under his hand; he cocked an eyebrow at her and said, "What's that?" He also sent her a 'humor me' look.  
'That was the baby kicking." She left off the 'and you know it, you big fake.'  
"Really?" He did his best to look amazed. "I never would have guessed that you're gonna have a baby! Wow! You look so thin and pretty and un-cow like!"  
Now he was really taking a risk.  
Luckily, Marron was in a rare good mood. This was surprising, considering how badly Goten had upset her earlier.  
"Thank you, Trunks," she whispered. She reached one hand up to his face and touched his cheek, then stood on her tiptoes in order to kiss him. "You're sweet."  
Trunks breathed a sigh of relief as she walked towards the car.  
"Despite that," she continued once they were safely on their way to the hospital to check up on Carrot, "you're still sleeping on the couch."

* * *  
"This place is a mess," Juuhachi-gou remarked, turning over a barely recognizable, charred picture of Goku with her foot.  
"I NOTICED!" Chi-Chi screeched, furiously sweeping the floor to no avail--there was no possible way to fix this mess with only a broom, especially considering the fact that the roof had caved in and only three walls remained in the living room.  
"Sorry."  
Bulma sighed. How many times had she told Trunks and Goten not to fight indoors? And here they went and destroyed Goku's living room over a marriage proposal--a marriage proposal she and Chi-Chi had been waiting for for months.  
She was going to seriously injure someone, or at least try.  
Unfortunately, her son had slipped out before she had a chance to get a word--or two hundred--with him about his reckless behavior. Normally, he was calm and controlled. He was one of the few men she knew who actually had some common sense, unlike his father and just about everyone who claimed Saiyan blood.  
Gohan and Videl had escaped, too--as had Pan. So she couldn't yell at Gohan or his daughter. Neither could she yell at her daughter, for Bra looked so upset and close to tears that Bulma wasn't sure what would happen if she did.  
Goten was long gone, and absolutely desolate if the way he held himself before leaving the ground was any indication of how he felt.  
Vegeta hadn't done anything wrong--this time--and so there really was no point in yelling at him later. Though he'd best tread softly around her for the next week or so.  
Bulma sighed again.  
And then she noticed the perfect person to yell at: Goku. He was standing in a corner of the former-living-room-now-reduced-to-rubble, looking very forlorn as he looked down at the ground.  
"Why didn't you stop them, Goku?" she demanded. "You could have!"  
Goku looked up at her. "There was no point. They weren't really fighting."  
"Weren't really fighting!" Bulma shrieked, gesturing at the mess around them. "Really!"  
"Really." Goku shrugged.  
"They destroyed your living room!" Bulma informed him, glaring.  
"The house is still here." Goku noted. "If it had been a real fight, the house wouldn't be here."  
"Goku," Chi-Chi began evenly before Bulma could say anything more, "are you going to help me, or do I have to do it myself?"  
"Gee, Chi-Chi, I don't think I could . . . I mean, I don't know how to fix an entire living room . . ."  
Chi-Chi propped the broom up against the wall and put her hands on her hips. "Get out then!" she ordered. "I have to clean, and you're not helping by just standing there! Shoo!"  
Goku shooed immediately, by way of what had before been a wall and was now thin air. He was flying in the direction of the hospital, Bulma noticed. She decided she would go there too; she needed to know if Carrot was alright--though if he wasn't, if he'd been in danger of losing his life, someone would have said so.  
As she started the car, she saw Bra hovering in the air above the house, indecision written on her face. After a few seconds, Bulma's daughter nodded and flew in the same direction Goku had.

* * *  
It didn't take long for Piccolo to notice the direction in which every ki seemed to be headed. Having realized this, he stopped.  
The hospital? he wondered. What happened?  
He frowned, and felt around some more until he caught hold of Vegeta's ki again. Goku? No, not Goku . . . Carrot? What happened to him?  
He glanced at the little Vegeta.  
Piccolo knew coincidence when he saw it; and the appearance of Chibi Vegeta around the time that Chibi Goku got hurt was not circumstance. There was some connection here, and he meant to find it.  
Still frowning, he changed direction to follow Vegeta. Talking to Goku would have to wait--or maybe not, since Goku was coming this way right now.

* * *  
"Wait! Stop!" Wolvwin howled. "Please! Stop!"  
The Namek must have caught the desperation in Wolvwin's tone, for he did stop. "What is it?" he asked.  
"Down there!" Wolvwin gestured excitedly. "See!"  
The Namek apparently thought this was some sort of trick, for he tightened his grip on Wolvwin before glancing down.  
When he glanced back up, he was immediately compelled to glance back down. "What is that thing?" he asked.  
Wolvwin looked down, too, and saw again the strange, winged creature that ran upon the ground. "I think it's a Happit," he said. He cupped his mouth in his hands and shouted down, "Hey, you, with the wings! Are you a Happit?"  
::I am indeed.:: came a soft voice into his mind. ::Hello, Prince Vegeta.::  
Wolvwin wiggled in the Namek's grip, not trying to get away this time but just excited. "Wow! A real Happit! That is so--"  
::Interesting, I am sure.:: the Happit answered. ::But I do not have time for a conversation now.::  
"Why not?" Wolvwin yelled back down.  
::Because I just do not. It is too long a story to be telling to you now. Goodbye.:: With this, a violet glow surrounded the Happit, and she put on a burst of speed that Wolvwin wouldn't have believed for the length of her legs and their proportion to her round body.  
Wolvwin looked back up at the Namek, who was looking at him strangely.  
"Should I translate?" he asked, having suddenly recalled an old fact he'd been told time after time when inquiring after Happit-stories from his mother because it was often an important part of those old tales. "Because you can't hear a Happit speak. Only I can, because I'm the Prince."  
"Yes." The Namek answered. "Translate."  
"She's too busy to talk now. Maybe later--according to the tales, Happits like to talk. And they're conversationalists, my mother used to say." Wolvwin felt a pang in his chest at the mention of his mother. "Whatever that means."  
"Yeah." After a short pause, the Namek asked, "And what else did your mother say about 'Happits'?"  
"Too much to summarize. And aren't we in a hurry?" Wolvwin countered. "We really should be going now. Wherever it is that we're headed."  
The Namek's eyes narrowed as he considered Wolvwin. "And what am I supposed to do with you?" he demanded after a moment. "I can't just waltz in there with you and expect to be given answers; first I'd have to explain you! I don't want to do that! I don't have time for that!"  
"You could just let me go. But I don't think you're going to. Oh well. You're stuck with me."  
The Namek's head turned to the side, and Wolvwin followed his gaze to see a small vehicle coming towards them. "Maybe not . . ." he said.

* * *  
"Bulma! I need a favor!"  
Bulma turned her head and saw Piccolo just outside. She rolled down a window. "Yes, Piccolo?"  
"Take care of this." Piccolo dropped a kid into the passenger seat. He then flew off, in the direction that seemed so popular--the direction of the hospital.  
"Piccolo!" she wailed, sticking her head out the window. "What am I supposed to do with a little kid?"  
Piccolo shouted over his shoulder, "Just take care of him for a couple hours, Bulma!"  
And then he was gone.  
"Oh, that's nice. Namek dumps me on another alien, and a female, at that. How considerate."  
Bulma turned to glare at the kid. "Watch who you're talking about, kid." She growled.  
The kid turned to face her. "Who am I talking about?" he crossed his arms and his brow furrowed. "I mean, you're only an alien female, you can't be that important. So I can talk about you however I want."  
Bulma slammed her foot on the brake; with a violent jerk, they came to a stop. "That is so rude!"  
"So what?"  
"So," Bulma began, "you are not going to be rude to me. I don't know who you think you are--"  
"Prince Vegeta Wolvwin of the Saiyans."  
This stopped Bulma's speech, and made her look very, very closely at this kid. And saw that he did bear a very great resemblance to Vegeta. In fact, he looked exactly like Vegeta, only smaller. He had a tail, and was wearing what looked like Saiyan armor.  
Oh. This was not good, as far as Bulma was concerned.  
"Who did you say you are?" she asked, wanting confirmation.  
"My name is Vegeta Wolvwin. I am the Prince of the Saiyans. I am not happy to be here. I would like to leave now. Goodbye." He made move to fly out the window; he obviously hadn't noticed that Bulma had rolled it back up, because he slammed into it and fell back into the seat headfirst.   
It was lucky that this car was a new, custom model designed to withstand Vegeta's temper--of course, it couldn't, but apparently it could resist this younger Vegeta.  
Bulma scowled at him. "And just where do you think you're going?"  
"Home."  
"I . . . don't think that's possible."  
'Why not?"  
Bulma paused, thought about it for a minute, and decided to answer question with question. "Do you know where and when you are? Do you know how you got here?"  
"No idea, except that the Tester brought me."  
Bulma's eyes went wide. The Tester? Isn't that the guy who made Carrot appear?  
She stepped on the gas.  
Something told her that she and this younger Vegeta needed to talk to her Vegeta right now.

* * *  
Gohan looked up as Trunks' car pulled into a parking space. "Time to face your tousan," he said in a low voice as Trunks walked over. He inclined his head towards the hospital entrance; through the glass, Trunks could see his father leaning against a wall, giving the doctors and nurse's black looks, as well as scowling at anyone who glanced twice at his blood-stained front.  
Trunks gulped.  
"Hai." Gohan agreed. "This is not going to be fun."  
"How do we explain something like this?" Trunks asked, trying to keep that whining note out of his voice. "He's not going to like it . . ."  
"I agree with you there, Trunks."  
"Stop talking about it and just go." Marron ordered from the passenger seat. "And, Trunks dear, when you come back, try not to get blood all over the inside of my car."  
Trunks sent her a wounded look. "And when I'm all bandaged up and bleeding, you're still gonna make me sleep on the couch?"  
"Uh-huh."  
Trunks sighed, shook his head, and opened the door. Vegeta glanced over, arms crossed, and immediately gave Trunks a very cold glare. His eyes turned to Gohan and flashed angrily.  
"Explain." He ordered in an icy tone when Trunks came closer.  
Trunks glanced over to Gohan, helpless.  
"Um." He vocalized when Gohan said absolutely nothing. "Er . . ."  
"Well?" Vegeta demanded in a low, dangerous growl.  
"Uh . . ."  
Apparently, Gohan caught the dark fury about to erupt from Vegeta. He stepped in with, "Well, Goten wanted to propose to Bra without having to worry about you tearing him into little pieces."  
"Yeah!" Trunks jumped in, sending Gohan a grateful look. "He figured that unless we helped him, he'd be dead before Bra could say yes . . ."  
"So Gohan came up with a plan," came Goten's voice from a dark corner beside the TV in the waiting room--which had been evacuated because the hospital staff knew what sort of things happened when the Z fighters started showing up. "Reverse psycheeology."  
"It's psychology." Gohan corrected gently.  
"Phycheeology, psychogy, whatever."  
"And what was this 'reverse psychology' supposed to do?" Vegeta asked, still glaring.  
This was the dangerous part. How to put it tactfully--  
"Since Bra has you wrapped around her little finger, we thought that if Trunks attacked Goten before you could and she protested loudly, you would act in her interest by attacking Trunks instead of Goten," Gohan explained in one breath, wisely rushing on to the next part, "This was supposed to work both ways--in other words, it was supposed to make Bra say yes--even though she probably would have without all of the commotion."  
"But after you flew off," Trunks came in, "she wanted to know what exactly it was we thought we were doing. So we told her. And then--"  
"She said no." Goten spoke up again, in that strangely sad Son voice that could make almost any heart crack open without even knowing the speaker. "Her exact words were 'The day I agree to marry you is the day I wish for immortality, blow up the Earth, and find a Saiyan space pod to travel around in so I can take over the universe.'"  
The corner of Vegeta's mouth twitched, and the small snort that emitted from him said that he found at least some of their little speech highly amusing--probably Goten's recitation of Bra's refusal.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

The muscles at the base of his wings burned as he did his best to stay aloft. He was beginning to feel very, very heavy; it was not lack of sleep that made him feel so, but pure exhaustion. The Tester was not old, as far as his species was concerned, but opening Gates was just not something he could do well anymore. Gallivanting off after a Saiyan child driven mad and nearly possessed by The Nameless afterwards--well, it was just too much--

His wings gave, and for just a moment he felt the terror of falling without support, plummeting down without hope of salvation--  
He let out a very undignified squawk as he spread his wings to their limits, steadying himself and ensuring that he was safe in the air for at least a minute more.  
If he only knew where the little Saiyan was--  
He closed his eyes and once more searched for the child with his mind.  
And this time, the most pleasant surprise of this day, he found Wolvwin. A slow smile found its way onto his face. It was a frightening smile, his lips traveling over his teeth and his snout wrinkling up to look more like a snarl than any sort of agreeable expression.  
And then he really snarled, having sensed who the child was with.  
Bulma, of all people! he wailed inwardly.  
I despise irony.  
He sighed, shook his head, and begged his wings to hold him as he shifted course.  
* * *  
The Keeper snorted and lifted one claw to steady the wobbling spectacles at the end of her snout. She peered once more at the wall, and once more caught a glimpse of what had happened and was happening in that other reality--and what would happen if something were not done.  
Ocram, she thought none-too-warmly at the Tester, you have bumbled it again. What do I have to do for it to be embedded in your thick skull--you can't do this sort of thing!  
The White Dragon shook her head violently and her spectacles flew into the far wall, smashing into shards at the high-speed of the encounter. She muttered a few unpleasant words as those shards floated over to her and melted back together. She squinted at them, snorted derisively, and reached up to position them once again on her nose.  
Little brother, she noted silently, you are going to get it. You are such an idiot. I don't know what I was thinking, when I didn't stop you the moment I knew what you were doing.  
She spoke an incantation, and the violet-and-black swirls of the Gate appeared on the wall opposite the mage-wall she used to see events from afar. She glanced about the room, wondering if she needed any of the various wands, books, and half-filled notebooks scattered about; she decided that she needed none of this--  
And immediately changed her mind.  
She swooped down to snatch up a pink-and-white crystal attached to a delicate golden chain, and slipped it around her neck. She would need this, some deep instinct for this sort of matter told her, and she'd be absolutely daft to forget it.  
With a high-pitched but still impressive roar, she hurdled herself into the darkness of the Gate, in complete control of the lovely pirouetting that was only possible with her streamlined build and her agility.  
Despite the fact that everything was about to shatter like glass on stone at a high speed, she could still take pleasure in Gate-shifting; after all, one had to have some physical outlet for dissolving one's frustrations. This was hers.

* * *  
Carrot groaned, but only once; it is not a Saiyan's way to cry out when not in most terrible pain. And this was not that great a pain, as he was conscious enough to bite his lips so that he would not make any more noise.  
There came a terrible, newly sharpened throbbing on his right side, and he reached a hand down to feel it--  
He opened his eyes, and saw that there was no blood on that hand. He pushed away the sheets, and saw a clean, white bandage wrapped around him, stained faintly red where the pain was coming from. Hesitantly, he touched again, and this time his wound responded by the pain growing even greater in the place he touched; he brought his hand away abruptly and saw that this time a faint hint of blood was on his fingertips.  
He felt a sudden wave of dizziness, which compelled him to lie back again rather than attempt to sit up longer.  
"Aaaaaah," he vocalized softly, the last complaint he would make aloud for his pain.  
After a long minute, he realized he could sense five familiar ki signatures very close by, and a few not-so-close but getting there. Vegeta, Gohan, Goten, Trunks, Bra . . . they were very close, they felt as though they were right outside the door. Goku, of course, flew this way; Bulma, too; that third, he'd felt it before, that was the Namek, Piccolo, he thought, though he wasn't quite sure; Lady, ah yes, he knew his Happit's presence was forthcoming; and there was one other, with Bulma, that felt oh-so-familiar but also so strange . . .  
Carrot sat up, so suddenly that all his breath whooshed out at the complaint from his side. Something's going on . . . something big . . . whoa . . . what is that thing?  
This newfound interest in something beyond finding out who was coming to offer condolences and throttle Trunks in Carrot's stead. (He rather wondered why he didn't feel Vegeta's ki soaring and Trunks' flickering just a little; why wasn't his self-appointed tousan doing anything? He'd certainly sounded angry enough in the half-dream the little Saiyan had had, the one in which the sharp pain he felt now was far, far away, as was Vegeta's strained, furious voice.) came from the feeling in his head, like filthy fingers brushing through his consciousness and leaving a slow-fading streak where something clean should have been . . .  
And there was another feeling in his head, like that of a small, vicious, furry thing keeping the dirtiness at bay, protecting his thoughts even as he could not . . .  
Lady? He reached his right hand up to brush his temple, and frowned when that second feeling, that second presence, whirled around and dashed away. You are more than just a very smart puppy, aren't you? . . . I'm going to have to get Tousan to explain more about what a Happit actually is . . . he seems to know a lot about them, and I think there's stuff he hasn't told me . . . no, I know there is . . .  
Ignoring the persistent whirling feeling in his head, the one that said 'lie down, you're hurt, you stupid Saiyan', the dizziness that blurred his eyesight as well as his thought process, he swung his feet over the edge of the hospital bed. After a moment of harsh breathing, he launched himself off with the upper parts of his arms and the balls of his feet--  
And landed in a heap on the floor, tears in his eyes, trying to remember how to breathe. He stayed in that uncomfortable position for a minute and a half, until Vegeta looked in on him yet again under a thinly veiled alibi that involved a vague mention of the Prince's test and that he had to make sure the kid wasn't dying because that would probably make it far more difficult to pass. At that point, Carrot heard the Prince's oath, concern not at all hidden by the tone, and proceeded to lose that shaky grasp of consciousness he had so recently reacquired.

* * *  
Bulma glanced over at this new Vegeta, who was at the moment slouching down in the seat, lower lip poked out, arms crossed, tail laid across his lap, a pouting air about him that his future self had never quite sunken to, even when made to sleep on the couch.  
She couldn't help but smile, and couldn't stop the immediate frown-lines on her forehead immediately afterwards. This was just too much--first Carrot, now a younger Vegeta? She shook her head and reminded herself that keeping her eyes focused on where she was driving was probably a good idea. She was probably safe talking to the kid, if she did so, because then she probably wouldn't crash because of something he said.  
"So," she began, not having the slightest hint of what she was going to say and very afraid of what might come, "do you have any idea where you are, kid?"  
There was a long pause, and then a small, small voice answered, "No idea." That had to bite--even at this age, there was no way Vegeta appreciated not knowing something. His voice immediately gained strength with, "My name is Prince Vegeta, or Wolvwin if you want less syllables. It really doesn't matter, unless you're in my father's presence; he insists on the first. I prefer the latter."  
Oh! That made it ever so much easier, didn't it!  
"Well, Wolvwin, you are on a planet called Earth."  
"I gathered that much. The Tester named the place."  
"And you are about, oh," Bulma began, mentally counting the years, "forty, forty-five, fifty years in the future--maybe longer, I'm not quite sure, he never told me his age."  
There was a maddening, heavy silence between them, and Bulma sneaked a glance at Wolvwin. The young Saiyan had stiffened and straightened, and now he was looking wide-eyed at her, looking for her eyes. He caught them, and said in a voice colder than any her Vegeta had ever used to her, "You lie."  
His eyes begged her for those two words to be true.  
"No." Bulma sighed and slowed the car in order to get her thoughts together without loosing control of the vehicle. "I do not lie. There is . . . a lot that you should know, if you're going to be here very long."  
Wolvwin's cheek twitched, as he caught the grave note in her voice. "It begins with something I don't want to know. If you tell the truth." This was not a question, but flat statement.  
"Yes." Bulma let out a deep breath, drew in an equally deep one, and said, "Your kidnapping by Frieza. The destruction of Vegetasei."  
She felt this was sufficient for now; if he had questions, he would ask and she would answer as best she could.  
To her surprise, there were none.

* * *  
Vegeta scowled at Carrot as he pulled the covers back over the little Saiyan, and snorted. "Stupid," he muttered under his breath, "Absolutely idiotic. You're here to rest, to recover. Stupid."  
When he realized that he was beginning to quote Bulma's sermons on the matter of 'resting-properly-and-getting-well-after-being-hurt-and-she'd-be-damned-if-he-got-out-of-bed-or-even-sat-up-one-more-time-for-an-entire-week-yes-an-entire-week-live-with-it-or-else-and-no-she-would-not-elaborate-on-that', he shut up and thought the rest of it at the boy, though in a more disgruntled-Vegeta style than Bulma would use.  
"Is he okay?" came a soft, female voice from the doorway. Vegeta didn't have to turn to know who owned that voice. "Poor Brussels Sprouts."  
"He's a Saiyan, it was a ki blast; he's not dead. He's fine." Vegeta growled, though there was a definite soft note in his otherwise surly tone out of respect for the unshed tears in his daughter's voice. "Just stupid."  
"No. He's not lacking for brains." Bra sighed, and her voice cracked, just a bit.  
She's upset, her father thought rather stupidly, stating the obvious that rang in his ears, and it isn't just the kid.  
Even Vegeta, Prince of all Saiyans and quite possibly Hardest of all Hearts, could see that her mood was far, far more than Carrot's injury. Perhaps that was just the cause of the effect that had in turn caused Bra to refuse Kakkarot's son . . . which was also a cause, for that was why Goten was upset, and why Trunks and Kakkarot's first son were so grim--  
Vegeta snorted; this was all too much for him. He'd never been one for this sort of reasoning; for him, there was cause and then there was effect. Effect that was effect as well as another cause, which also happened to be an effect--well, this was the green-haired genius's department, not his.  
Correction: he could understand this stuff; he just didn't want to.  
Vegeta snarled.  
No, he decided, Bra's love-life or lack thereof wasn't that difficult to understand or deal with, compared to some subjects he could remember facing (Like explaining the Facts of Life to her when she was five, one of his more . . . awkward . . . moments.).  
But still . . . he'd much rather leave his daughter's fragile emotional state in the hands of his mate. Far safer that way.  
"If he's not stupid, then why did he jump between them?" Vegeta demanded, drawing himself up to his full height, "I'm beginning to think that hitting his head like Kakkarot did would be an improvement!"  
Bra blinked, and her thoughts were easy to imagine: What? Did he just say what I think I just heard? No . . . he couldn't have . . . he wouldn't have . . . not ever . . .  
"Nah." Carrot choked out, suddenly and surprisingly halfway conscious. "Not if you like my brain cell count, Tousan. Like Bulma-san says, 'Don't think, it'll only do you harm.' And there's 'don't throw Carrot off cliffs, he needs his IQ points.' Heh. Heh. Heh."  
Huh? When had Bulma said that? Vegeta didn't remember her saying that, and he wasn't too likely to forget what she said . . .   
This time, it was Vegeta who blinked.  
"Uh, Brussels Sprouts?" Bra asked, suddenly by Carrot's side though Vegeta didn't recall her walking to him. "Are you okay?"  
"Fine, just fine," the groggy Saiyan murmured. "Just gotta keep those brain points and IQ cells right where they are . . . don't want to lose them, people don't return lost wallets nowadays and the things are so darned expensive . . . the price of intelligence is so inflated, I don't know if it's worth it . . . "  
Vegeta's olive skin turned deathly white as he listened to this incoherent babbling punctuated by long, labored silences.

* * *  
Lady howled indignation and spread her golden wings as she cleared a fallen log. As she landed, brought her wings back to her sides, and continued on her way as fast as stubby, frantic Happit legs would carry her, she was raging inside.  
How dare They! How dare They go near my Chosen without my leave! I will rip out Their throats and--  
The little Happit halted her thoughts, half-mortified by the fact that she was lowering herself to Saiyan threats and grumblings--wasn't it degrading her entire species, to speak without precision and careful thought?  
In righteous wrath, pure anger, no! she answered her own question. And when we are as extinct as the Saiyans, more so is the answer no . . . regret welled deep, deep within her, and she forced her thoughts from that. There would be a time for that . . . almost unquestionably, there would be a time for that . . .   
I certainly will not bother wording my thoughts in a way to please the Elders. They are, after all, no more.  
Lady the Happit snorted, and tried to beg more speed from her stubby legs.

* * *  
Wolvwin gripped his tail hard in both hands, felt the hard pain that induced somewhere in the far recesses of his mind.  
Vegetasei . . . destroyed?! This can't be true . . .  
But something deep inside informed him that it was very true, that the hole this green-haired alien woman had made through his chest with her words was a justified wound . . .  
Kidnapped by Frieza . . . my father has spoken of him . . . Kaasan spoke of him, once, though I can't remember what it was she said . . . ack, it does not matter!  
Vegetasei . . .   
Kaasan?  
Vegetasei!  
Kaasan!  
It was the most natural thing in the world for the young Prince to link those two together subconsciously. She had not yet been a week gone, for him, and her home had been Vegetasei--she had always been there, always someone he could run to when on the surface, someone who didn't ridicule him for his nightmares or viciously beat him and call it 'training' . . . someone who was always there . . . on Vegetasei . . .  
His mother and his planet had been constants, never really changing . . . always there, always there . . .   
Now they had been ripped away by the voice of a stranger.  
The facts did not matter at this moment.  
It made no difference--no difference--that this woman could no more have caused his loss than fly (well, she would have if she could have, she wouldn't have been driving this vehicle if she knew how to fly.). In his mind, the messenger was as guilty as the one who did the deed . . .   
Always there . . .   
Gone!  
His kaasan was not the only cause for grief, either. If Vegetasei was gone, then so were most of its people, whoever hadn't been off-surface at the time . . . like his bodyguards, because they were only on Wolvwin-duty when Wolvwin was on the planet. He felt a peculiar pang at the thought of their deaths, a feeling far, far from the malicious joy he felt at the thought that his father had probably been on-planet and equally far from the pain he felt at the memory of his mother--he didn't recognize this ache.   
Even as a Saiyan Prince, who should deny any such feelings, Vegeta Wolvwin knew what hate was, and what its opposite happened to be. And he knew that this feeling was neither of those--  
A sorrow less than that of his kaasan, but still deep-rooted?  
I hope they were off-planet, he thought sadly. It's not fair that they should die--  
Waitaminute!  
She said that I was kidnapped, and then Vegetasei destroyed . . . and if I was kidnapped, then Nappa and Raditz . . .   
Wolvwin shuddered, at the first of the three possibilities he could see there: they could have been executed for not preventing that. Or, they could have been sent to find him. Or, and this was more likely, they could have been forgotten in the turmoil sure to result from his disappearance.  
Turmoil, for certain, would have come--the Prince wasn't dumb enough to think that he had any sway in everyday matters, but being the Prince, he was very important when his safety was in jeopardy. After all, King Vegeta no longer had a consort and was exceedingly picky, particularly when the conception of an heir was concerned, and it was entirely possible that if Wolvwin was kidnapped and for some reason died, the King might die long before he had chance for another heir. This would be a problem, considering that there were no other members of the Vegeta family currently (Wolvwin's kaasan had stated that the King had been certain to kill all competition after Wolvwin's birth, for he was a particularly possessive man) and someone had to take the throne--and there were very few Saiyans who wouldn't be tempted . . .   
I wish Kaasan hadn't taught me about politics. They're . . . depressing, to say the least.  
And that thought, of course, made his thoughts turn from thoughtful thoughts to torn ones, and he remembered his mother as he had last seen her, in greater detail than the other times--her hair, a black so deep as to have blue highlights; it ran all the way down to her waist, wild as the best of Saiyan hair and spiking out in all directions with no hint of calm. Her eyes, black like his, but far, far deeper and aged with the sorrow that came from being unloved by the one who was Wolvwin's father. Her hands, gentle and warm, feeling his forehead and bandaging his wounds when training got too tough.  
Wolvwin closed his eyes and kept them closed then, though a single tear fought through the barrier he had not yet managed to perfect, rolling down his cheek and making way for a painful sob, also singular, to wrench its way out of his throat.  
It was not for his mother that the wave of tears and the further sobs came--it was for himself. It was for that terrible, empty feeling that bounced around inside his chest and made him wish for the first time that he could die.  
The anger returned, anger that he directed at the only living person within eyesight, the strange woman sitting beside him, who occasionally glanced over as if concerned.  
Vegeta Wolvwin lost all control.

* * *  
Oh. No.  
The Tester caught a glimpse of what raged inside the young Prince's head and swore as violently as ever a Dragon had.  
He also caught a glimpse of what had caused that rage, and wasn't quite certain whether he should curse the woman for her stupidity; he decided to use that faint telepathic breath for something that would do far more good.

* * *  
It just wasn't right, seeing any version of Vegeta cry. Bulma turned her eyes away and focused fully on her driving. Even glancing over now seemed almost . . . like an invasion of privacy, like if she looked over there and saw that she could never look at her own Vegeta again without that sight flashing in front of her eyes--  
She didn't think she could stand that, so she gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white.  
::Vegeta's mate, you should duck in just a moment.:: came a helpful voice from nowhere, ::Like . . . NOW!::  
Bulma did. She had long ago learned that when someone said to duck, she was to duck first and demand the reason later.  
There came a blinding flash of white light from Wolvwin's seat, followed by a searing pain on her back. She blinked back her immediate reaction, tears, and looked up at the hole her window now boasted and the pulsing ball of energy hastening away.  
"You little . . ." she sputtered, snatching Wolvwin by the tail and shaking him violently, making his teeth chatter. "you little bastard! Why the hell--"  
Wolvwin closed his eyes and pointed his index finger at her--  
Only to be shaken out of his concentration again, this time by being slammed against his window. She squeezed his tail harder and was rewarded by little whimpers of pain. "Why--" she began again, only to be interrupted by the realization that that was a tree her car was about to crash into--  
She tightened her grip on Wolvwin's tail instinctively, and heard his howl of pain in a very faraway place; something told her that maybe she should loosen that hold, but it didn't tell her loud enough.  
There came a new sound, a sound Bulma well recognized, for she'd heard the sound of car doors being ripped off their hinges before, and something grabbed her middle and pulled her out of the car, which slammed into the tree and went up in immediate flames.  
That's not right; I need to work on that. She thought, horrified that she could have been in there. Note to self; work on a new design that will not combust upon crashing.  
Then she glanced behind her, and saw her rescuer.  
"And you are? . . ." she asked after she had overcome her initial instinct to screech and thrash.  
"He's the Tester," Wolvwin announced, gasping in pain.  
"Shut up!" Bulma ordered. "I didn't ask you."  
::The boy is quite correct,:: the big (or not-so-big, compared to Shenlon) black dragon announced, ::As far as my identity is concerned.:: His great golden eyes narrowed, and his arrowhead-shaped ears flattened to his skull as he continued with, ::Are you badly hurt, Bulma?::  
Bulma considered the fierce, pulsing pain in her back and the way her shirt clung to her back, covered with what could be nothing but blood. "No, not really, but you-know-who--" by this, she meant Vegeta, because she didn't think that it would be wise to let Wolvwin know that little tidbit at the moment "--isn't going to like it."  
::Good.:: the dragon snorted flame out of his left nostril and then his right, and both times hit Wolvwin in the chest. ::I did not bring you here so that you could harm her. Do you have any idea how your hurting her could--::  
"No, damn it, and I don't care either!" the little Saiyan announced with a pout.  
::'Kill the messenger', is that your philosophy?:: the Tester asked, some dark knowledge gleaming in the depths of his eyes, ::It is a bad one; I know your mother didn't help you develop it.::  
"Shut up!" Wolvwin closed his eyes as he swung from side to side in Bulma's grip. A moment later he opened them again, but this time was looking over his shoulder. "The Happit's coming."

* * *  
Lady, completely out of breath and wishing she could loose enough of herself to fluently spout profanity, came to a halt. Her head lowered, her sides heaving, she opened her mouth and retched so that a foul-smelling, slimy white liquid spilled onto the grass.  
I do not feel good, she thought, All of this running . . .  
But Carrot! What about her Chosen? She had to keep going, else The Nameless touch him again . . . it was her duty, that kept her bound to this world . . . it was all that mattered . . .   
But she couldn't. When she begged her trembling limbs to carry her, they responded by folding beneath her, and she sank to the ground, panting.  
Oh . . .   
"Hey, you! Happit!" hollered a rather familiar, also rather strained, voice. "Look over here!"  
Lady looked, and was treated to the sight of the Tester, as large and ugly as he'd been three centuries ago, hovering four feet above the ground beside a burning mass of metal, holding onto Prince Vegeta's mate with one huge claw--Bulma in turn held the younger Vegeta by the tail.  
The younger Prince Vegeta?  
Oh, yes.  
She had forgotten about him . . .   
::What is happening here?:: she demanded of the Tester, not bothering with the boy--he looked too intimidated (and furiously ashamed at himself for being so) to be useful for answers--or the woman--no creature other than a Saiyan Prince or a Dragon could hear her speech. A curse of her species, that was, and it became quite annoying at times.  
::Be damned to the depths if I know anything but that The Nameless are loose.::  
::I know that already, Remarkably Foolish One.:: Lady snapped, gathering strength enough to snarl as she lay there, too exhausted for anything but speech and slight disgust-signals. ::You don't know anything else? I will not, as you said, damn you to the depths if you do happen to know a bit more than you've told.::  
::I do not.::  
"Oh, great," Wolvwin commented. "I trade a stupid Dragon for a stupid alien for a stupid alien female back to the stupid Dra--"  
::Hush.:: Lady admonished, gently. ::This is not the time, young Prince.::  
"Oh, all right, Happit."  
"What's going on here?" Bulma shrieked, having finally noticed that Lady was here, not fifteen yards away. "Why is Lady--"  
Lady hurriedly told Wolvwin why she was here; she thought she heard him mutter 'I'm a Prince, not a translator!' before repeating to Bulma: "Happit says she's on the way to Carrot, but tired, and can't walk any further under her own power. Says she needs someone to take her, and it's important, and Carrot is in a lot of danger."  
He muttered something like 'Carrot? Stupid name' as he dangled from Bulma's hand. He didn't look like he was in so much pain now, for he'd replaced his grimace for the typical Vegeta scowl.  
The green-haired woman didn't ask why Wolvwin could hear Lady and she couldn't--apparently, she had already accepted the fact and was now searching for a possible solution to Lady's problem.  
Lady was grateful for that.

* * *  
Goku was humming as he flew along--"Jingle Bells", though Christmas had been several months ago. He wasn't particularly worried about Carrot. Just because there'd been a lot of blood didn't mean the boy was very badly hurt. Blood didn't make worry, not for Goku. He'd lost all of his fifteen times over in all his fights and had never actually needed to be given someone else's blood because his always came back--besides, Carrot's ki felt just about normal, sure, a little lower than it usually was, but that was to be expected--  
Goku caught sight of a great mass of darkness rising in the sky, slowly, with halting movement, as if wounded. It rose from inside of the hospital; it seethed with anger, hate, rage, loathing, and a million more terrible emotions Goku couldn't name because he had never felt them.  
Goku knew evil when he saw it.  
He clenched his fists as his eyes turned turquoise and his hair golden, and with a wordless roar advanced on the terrible darkness--  
Only to stop, dumbfounded in that Goku way, when the darkness dissipated with a terrible shriek and the sun lit up everything doubly, as though ashamed that such a darkness had come to the world it lit. Where'd it go? He thought wildly, glancing about although he could not longer feel the thing. It was as if it had vanished from the face of the Earth . . .   
::It did,:: came a voice dark as the mass but three times as evil, ::After all, it was only a servant, not one of Us. And no mere servant can withstand the forces of True Light. But if servants cannot face you, then you cannot face Us--::  
Suddenly, the voice shut up, and Goku heard whispering noises from the direction he thought it had come from, low murmurs he could hear but not make out--  
::This is not the time.:: came a newer voice. ::We will not taunt you now, for why would We play cat-and-mouse if We would not wish to snap your neck shortly?::  
Then both voices were gone.  
Goku's eyes and hair turned their normal black without his needing to think about it, and he dashed down to the hospital, flung open those doors, and arrived just in time to save the doctor from a certain Saiyan Prince . . . 

* * *  
"What the hell do you mean, YOU DON'T KNOW?!" Vegeta snarled, eyes flashing dangerously and a vein sticking out of his forehead. "You're a DOCTOR! If there's something wrong with Carrot, YOU SHOULD KNOW WHY!"  
The good doctor shrugged, though he was wise enough to look quite terrified. "Did he hit his head?"  
"NO, he did not HIT HIS HEAD! I would know if he hit his head! I made sure that he DID NOT HIT HIS HEAD!"  
"Well then, does he have any sort of condition--"  
"NO! I WOULD KNOW IF HE HAD ONE OF THOSE!"  
Vegeta decided then that there was no reason this useless physician should live. Asking stupid questions, not asking the right questions--whatever those happened to be--and just generally pissing Vegeta off.  
The man had to die.  
Vegeta was contemplating whether simply snapping the man's neck was better than using a ki blast, and had just decided that a body lying around would annoy him and so a ki blast was better, when Kakkarot burst in and shouted, "Vegeta! Don't!"  
How did Kakkarot always know? Vegeta was never able to kill anyone anymore, no matter how much they annoyed him; Kakkarot always, always, always got in the way.  
"Why not?" he sneered in reply. "I don't see a reason he should live; do you? Kindly share the reason, if you have one!"  
"You can't just go around killing people, Vegeta," Kakkarot began in his softest reasoning-with-Vegeta tone. "It's not right."  
"So? When have I ever cared about that? This doctor is useless! He doesn't have any idea what's the matter with Carrot!"  
"Something's the matter with Carrot?" Kakkarot's face twisted into concern. "Gee, I thought he was just a little hurt . . . but something's wrong with him?"  
"He's hallucinating a little bit," Bra announced at Vegeta's snarl. "Trunks is in with him now, and Marron too." She sighed. "I think he'll be just fine, Goku-san--sometimes people get disorientated after being injured. Dad's just being overprotective."  
"I am not!" Vegeta protested.  
Bra ignored him and continued talking to Kakkarot. "If you want to know where Gohan and Goten are, they left--I think Gohan's trying to cheer Goten up." The smallest of smiles pricked the right corner of her mouth, but it was a sad smile, and Vegeta didn't like it.  
Vegeta scowled and decided that he was going to blast the doctor anyway, whether Kakkarot liked it or not. And if the other Saiyan wanted to get involved, fine--Vegeta would just take his frustrations on Kakkarot instead. That was always more satisfying anyway, a real fight as opposed to simply blowing away some weakling.  
Vegeta glanced around the waiting room and noticed that the man had (wisely) already fled the room. He sighed.

* * *  
::It would not be wise to allow the two to meet when we fly in.:: the Tester told Bulma in a soft undertone, ::I do not believe your mate would, em, appreciate the wound on your back or the one who caused it.::  
"I agree with you on that." Bulma said, nodding and glancing over at Wolvwin, who was sitting cross-legged on a nearby bolder, a very earnest expression on his face as he spoke to the Happit. "I think Vegeta would kill him. He'd sleep on the couch for a year, but he'd kill Wolvwin even if I threatened a decade, I think."  
::He is protective of you, and you most of all.:: the Tester rumbled. Bulma felt warm all over at his words, as though she had just been given a great compliment. ::Too protective, at times--now, how would we get Wolvwin to the healing place without allowing Vegeta to know of him? Send him alone?::  
"No, I don't think he'd get there if we sent him alone--too stubborn, wouldn't think he had to go. And besides, does he know where the hospital is?"  
::You have a point . . . he mustn't go alone, he mustn't arrive with us, and he mustn't be seen by Vegeta until the older Prince is focused on some other matter,:: the Black Dragon mused. ::The Happit grows impatient.::  
"Hey!" Bulma shouted, snapping her fingers. "Can he fly?"  
::Yes. Most Saiyans can.::  
"Great! Then he can take Lady--you said she has a mental link to Carrot, right, so she could give directions?--and you can take me."  
The Dragon's head swiveled to gaze at Lady; when he turned back to her, he said, ::Yes. She says, quote, 'Wonderful, marvelous idea! Congratulate the human for it, and then let's go!'::  
Bulma grinned and clambered up onto the Tester's neck, to a place just behind his neck ridge. "Let's get going, then! Don't waste any more time!"  
::Yes ma'am.::  
"When we get there," Bulma informed him a few minutes later, "You are going to explain this. All of it. All of it meaning from Vegeta's test on. Or else."  
::I repeat myself: yes ma'am.::

* * *  
Wolvwin cradled the Happit to his chest as gently as he could, and tried to fly faster without dropping her--she seemed to think this was very important, and he wasn't inclined to argue with a Happit, of all things!  
::A little to your right,:: she said after a few minutes, a soft, kind voice inside his head, ::and we'll be on a straight course.::  
"Okay." Wolvwin sighed softly. "Who is this 'Carrot' fellow?"  
::He is my Chosen.::  
"Hmm." Her Chosen, eh? "So the stories are true?"  
::Which stories?::  
"The ones Kaasan told me."  
::Ah. Those.:: The Happit laughed inside his mind. ::Yes, your kaasan knew the true tales, though she did romanticize them a bit for the retelling. But then, she did not omit details, even if she over exaggerated a bit--that is more than I can say for some Saiyans, the incompetent, prideful, arrogant fools.::  
Wolvwin had the queer feeling that it didn't matter if he understood this or not. He understood that she approved of the education he'd been given involving her species--he didn't know what romanticize meant, though, but he guessed it meant about the same thing as over exaggerate.  
And that made him bristle. "Kaasan never--"  
::Hush, Wolvwin. Your kaasan told true tales, but she was a storyteller, correct? They tend to over exaggerate, and that is a good thing--otherwise, too many tales would be too bland to bother telling and the legends of ancient times would have long been forgotten. Who wishes to hear a boring tale?::  
"Good point. So, this Carrot fellow--he's a Saiyan?" Wolvwin asked, getting back to the subject matter he wanted to focus on.  
::Yes, he is.::  
"So when Vegetasei went boom, some people survived?"  
::Yes. Yourself, the ones called Nappa and Raditz, and Raditz's younger brother by the name of Kakkarot.::  
Wolvwin felt a small moment of pleasure at finding out that his unwanted, unneeded, stupid, incompetent bodyguards had survived, but within a bare moment he was frowning. His tail lashed back and forth in a halting way as he puzzled over this. "So this Carrot, he's of a new generation? But . . . how can that be? If only four survived, and none female . . ."  
The Happit took a long time to answer, but when she did all she said was, ::That is something you will learn of later. As for Carrot--he is like you, pulled out of the timeline and deposited here. He is Kakkarot, with a slightly different name.::  
"Raditz's little brother, eh?" Wolvwin snickered. "Did he inherit his brother's brain, or did he get all that Raditz didn't?"  
The Happit did not comment on his insult but to say, ::You did not know Raditz, that much is obvious by your words.::  
"Well, maybe he's not so dumb--he plays a good game of Wocka, and that much at least takes some measure of intelligence." Wolvwin admitted. "He plays better than my father--and my father . . . well, he may be a double-damned bastard, but he plays better than he fights, and he fights pretty good, I'm almost at his level--"  
He sensed a great amount of amusement at this point from the Happit, who was about to spasm out of his arms for the silent laughter racking her body. "What?" he demanded, half-hurt. "What's so funny?"  
::You have not changed, in some respects. I had wondered what you were like as a child . . .::  
"Child!" Wolvwin yelped, wounded. "I am all of five and three-quarters in years! I am no child!"  
Yet more laughter. ::Compared to the Vegeta in this time--:: the Happit stopped speaking, suddenly solemn.  
"The what?" Wolvwin shook his head. That wasn't right--there was only supposed to be one Vegeta Wolvwin . . . and that was him! "But . . . but . . . that's not fair!"  
::I'm sure he will say the same.:: The Happit sighed. ::I believe that this is going to take a lot of explaining--and, diplomacy, ugh. It didn't help that you--::  
"That I what?" Wolvwin inquired, instantly suspicious when she again didn't finish her statement or elaborate on it.  
::You'll find out soon enough.:: The Happit changed the subject immediately with, ::Look! I believe that is the hospital!::  
Wolvwin stared at the three-storied whiteness of the enormous building below. He blanched. "That's a hospital? I thought a hospital was a healing place . . ."  
::It is.::  
"Then why is it so big and ugly, then?"  
::I have no idea.::  
"And how do we find our way around?"  
::I have no idea how humans do it, but I am going to sense for Carrot, you are going to fly, and we are going to do just fine finding our way to him.::


	13. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Trunks sank into an uncomfortable hospital chair, put his head in his hands, and sighed. He heard his father's low growl of disapproval, but even so remained in that position for a little while, trying to think. He didn't succeed in doing so, however, and stood back up, yawning and rubbing his eyes.  
"Tired, Trunks?" Marron asked from where she sat on the hospital couch, drumming her fingers on the armrest and giving him that half-asleep glare that signified a very short fuse. "Maybe we should go home, get some sleep."  
There was another growl from where Vegeta lurked in the shadows near the main entrance, and then Goku was heard saying, "Aw, Vegeta, does it really matter if Trunks goes home? I mean, gee, Marron probably doesn't need to be out this late, what with the baby and all . . ." Apparently, Goku thought that this might have some sway with the Prince, considering that he was going to become a grandfather in three short months.  
It didn't, evidently, for there was no answer of any kind from the surly Saiyan.  
"Okay, then, I'll drive her, if you're not going to let Trunks--" Goku began, completely oblivious to Vegeta's basic opinion of his driving abilities. He hadn't been subject to Vegeta's tirade at Bulma when she'd been in that accident a few years back. ("What were you doing, woman?! Were you trying to drive like Kakkarot?!)  
"FINE! Take her home, brat! But you had better come back!"  
So his tousan did care about his soon-to-be grandchild. That was a good thing, Trunks supposed.  
"GO!" Vegeta bellowed after a half second of Trunks not moving. "Hurry up!"  
Trunks went, rummaging through his pocket to find the car's capsule, and pausing at the door only long enough for his wife to catch up. He did not want to get beaten up by his father--he had enough problems, and Vegeta seemed especially vicious today. The worst days were not the ones when the Prince threatened everyone with painful death because he was displeased, but the ones when he didn't.

* * *  
Wolvwin floated above the foot of the other Saiyan's bed, arms crossed, tail wrapped around his middle, frown-lines on his forehead, eyes narrowed, basically busy looking just as peeved as he felt. "What is this 'IQ cells' and 'brain points' business?" he demanded of the Happit, who sat on the other boy's chest, whimpering. ". . . 'bunny constrictors' and 'boa rabbits'? What kind of nonsense IS this?!"  
::I do not know . . .:: her voice was barely above a strained whisper in his mind as she continued as if to herself alone, ::Perhaps induced by Them or their minions . . . yes, They touched him . . .::  
"Oh, wonderful. Them." Wolvwin snorted, and his tail unfurled itself from around his waist to taste the air in front of him. "That explains everything, leaves no question unanswered."  
::Shut up, little Prince!::  
Wolvwin deemed to ignore this. "If They touched him, how do we undo it?"  
::Undo it?:: the Happit's wings fluttered as she sat up straight. ::I believe . . . I believe that if we were to wake him . . .::  
"So wake him up then!" Wolvwin pronounced in a tone little less than a shout.  
::I don't know how. I have never slept, so I do not know how one goes about waking up.::  
"You've never--" Wolvwin, dangerously close to stuttering, caught himself and snapped, "Jump off him. I'll wake the idiot up."  
::He is not an idiot!:: the Happit snarled, all the same doing as Wolvwin said.  
"Sure sounds like one." Wolvwin shrugged, noted that the Happit seemed far enough away now, and floated down until he was level with the one named Carrot.  
Then he drew back his hand, and brought it down hard on the other Saiyan's cheek. When all he got from doing so was a groggy mention of flying elephants and purple pigs, he slapped the boy again, this time with a strength he didn't bother to hold back. It certainly sounded like an ample slap, making Wolvwin wince from the ferocity and intensity of the noise.  
With an oath, the one named Carrot leapt into the air, hit the ceiling, and fell in a heap back onto the bed. He put a hand to his cheek and turned to Wolvwin with a furious red-and-white aura blazing around him. "What the hell--" he began, only to stop in mid-sentence, flaming black eyes turning puzzled as the eyebrows above them relaxed. "Never mind that--who the hell?"  
Wolvwin was not accustomed to being addressed like this by another of his own species (all right, so his mother had been known to call him 'Princeling' when in a teasing mood, and Raditz had sometimes done the same--but that didn't count, because his mother was his mother and Raditz was Raditz--allowances could be made for them), and he resented it. A lot.  
But he could make allowances for this Saiyan, who was one of only four besides himself who had survived, and who had never met Wolvwin.  
"I am Vegeta Wolvwin, your Prince, and you'd best remember it," Wolvwin informed the other in a dangerously soft tone.  
The other Saiyan stared blankly for a long time; just when Wolvwin was certain he'd have to repeat himself, Carrot had the nerve to laugh. "Oh . . ." was all he managed to get out before he was shaking too hard with mirth to continue.  
Wolvwin's fists balled up and his tail lashed back and forth so hard that it could have easily snapped the legs of anyone stupid enough to get in its way. "Is that the way you address all of your superiors?" he demanded stiffly, drawing himself up to full height. "Or is it just something about me that you find funny?"  
"Honestly? It's just you. I'm sorry, really . . ." Carrot rubbed laughter tears from his eyes with one hand as he held his red-stained side with the other. "Gads, I don't need to be laughing . . . ow . . . anyway, yeah, it's just you. Not your fault . . . it's just that, you know, I didn't expect you . . . I thought I was the only one . . . and that it would be you, of all people . . . if I'm right, you're from the past too?"  
Wolvwin stared. To come to that conclusion--the right conclusion!--from hearing a name and seeing a face, with no other information whatsoever and only having awoken almost a minute earlier . . . this Carrot fellow was smart! Somehow, Wolvwin hadn't quite expected it; from the other Saiyan's ridiculous babbling, he'd expected a half-witted moron awake as well as asleep . . .   
Instead, he found someone smart.  
Well, good! Idiots were annoying.  
Wolvwin forgot all about the glancing blow to his pride, abandoning the wish to beat Carrot into a bloody pulp for the not-so-slight insult. The other Vegeta had never quite learned how to do that, to allow some insult to slide off--he'd learned under Frieza that retribution for slights could be put off, but he had forgotten that they could be forgiven. He had never been in close contact with anyone his own age before, had never really had a friend. That was what lured him now, causing him to shrug off something he would at other times have killed for.  
"You can call me Prince Vegeta, or just Wolvwin," he informed Carrot.  
"I'm Carrot, Wolvwin." The other Saiyan stuck out his hand, and Wolvwin eyed it warily. Something was obviously expected from this gesture, but Wolvwin couldn't see what was expected. So he just floated there and observed Carrot's outstretched hand.  
"Is this a new custom?" he asked after a minute of strained silence.  
"Oh . . . uh, no. It's a handshake."  
"What is a handshake?"  
Carrot proceeded to demonstrate.  
"That's stupid," Wolvwin sneered after the ritual (which wasn't quite what it sounded like; you didn't just shake your hand, but you grasped someone else's and then you both shook your hands.).  
Carrot didn't comment. Neither did the Happit--who, Wolvwin realized, was almost too silent, and--was she sleeping? No, wait, she said she never had . . . but wouldn't that make sleep even more likely?  
She answered his question, having somehow heard his thoughts. ::No, my friend. I have never slept--but rest is something that all species must do at one time or another.:: With that, she inched her way over to Carrot's pillow and curled up into a tight ball on top of it, closing her eyes and sighing a long sigh.  
"Soooo . . ." Wolvwin said after a moment. "Do you play Wocka?"  
"What's Wocka?"  
"I'll make a deal with you; you explain what's going on better than the Tester and the Happit did, and I'll teach you to play Wocka while you talk." Wolvwin suggested, deciding to be a nice diplomat instead of a bossy Prince.  
"So, what's Wocka?"  
"A game."  
"Cool! I didn't know Saiyans played games . . . of course I'll play!"  
Wolvwin shook his head, slowly, then reached into a pocket on the inside lining of his armor. He brought out ten metallic disks with images engraved on them, worn smooth with age. He reached into another pocket and pulled out the cards. Finally, he reached into a boot and found the silken material of the board. He spread the board out on the floor, smoothed it out with his hands, and cut the deck in two, handing the thinner half to Carrot. "You won't want many cards during your first game; it gets involved, and you can't learn if you're confused." With this, he considered the disks and after a moment's hesitation gave Carrot seven and himself three. "The more pieces, the more you can do on the board." He explained. "Handicap--less knowledge, less experience, more lenience and a head start."  
He then went about informing Carrot of the rudiments of the game, the fairly rigid rules that seemed so simple on the surface but were complicated on more than one level. He explained what the disks were allowed to do and when. He told Carrot what the cards were used for, and how to use them to allow the disks to do more on the board. And most importantly, he explained, slowly and carefully, as if to a child of three, what constituted a win.  
As Wolvwin took his first turn, Carrot began the explanation.

* * *  
The Keeper hurdled out of her Gate at as great a speed as she had ever boasted, and cut through the sky as though she had oiled her scales before going through the Gate. She slowed her speed, if ever so slightly, by banking back half an inch or so and scanning the area below. Forest, forest, road leading to city, city, hospital, the shape of a big, black, stupid Dragon nearing the hospital . . .   
::OCRAM!:: she screeched, just as her younger brother spread his wings to begin his landing.  
Either her mind's voice didn't carry to him or he deemed to ignore her, for there was no answer from him and not even the slightest acknowledgment of her existence as his feet first brushed the ground and grabbed a hold of it in a jerky, unbalanced movement that spoke of pure weariness. With distaste obvious even from this height, he shook his claws out of the concrete he'd had to hold on to. He brought his wings with a snap to his sides then bowed his head low to the ground.  
The Keeper hadn't noticed the human on her brother's neck, and probably wouldn't have but for the fact that the woman swung over the Tester's neck-ridge to collapse onto the ground, looking very glad to still be alive. The Keeper couldn't blame Bulma--that was Bulma, wasn't it? Well, good! Ocram had some sense after all!--for the look on her face . . . the way Ocram flew, anyone would be grateful for the blessing of life afterwards; either that, or they'd be busy loosing the past two weeks' breakfasts.  
::OCRAM!:: she repeated as she dove towards him, spiraling straight down in an aerial tactic that would have been suicide for any Dragon without her reflexes and years of practice.  
This time, he heard her and responded. ::I have this under control, Tshala,:: he informed her haughtily as she came to a stop and hovered in front of his nose. ::There is no need for--::  
::THERE IS NEED FOR IT!:: she contradicted before he was through, noticing Bulma's visible wince and deciding to tone it down a bit. ::You idiot! The Nameless are going to--::  
::I know what The Nameless intend to do. I can handle it, sister,:: he said even more haughtily, drawing himself up even though his bones creaked from the effort, trying to impress upon her that he was still many times her size.  
She was not in the least bit impressed. ::How, then, is it that neither of the little ones are with you, eh? Why is Carrot hurt, and in the human healing-place, em? Why did you bring Wolvwin to this planet? You should have known that The Nameless had latched onto him! It is the way things are, have always been! If The Nameless issue a Dragon a death threat and it comes from the mouth of some child said Dragon doesn't know . . . everyone knows the tales, everyone knows what happens then!::  
::When my name is Everyone, you may have it changed in the Records. Until then, do not tell me what everyone knows,:: he sniped.  
::I'LL TELL YOU WHAT I PLEASE, AND YOU'LL LISTEN AND TAKE NOTES!::  
::In some distorted, disgusting version of reality, maybe.::  
"STOP IT!" This Vegeta-quality roar came from Bulma, who both of the Dragons had forgotten about in the moment.  
The Dragons stopped, instantly remembering her; the one remembering how she, though not a strong woman or a young one, had managed to hold onto Wolvwin's tail through she'd been hauled out of her car rather roughly and had already been injured; the other remembering all the scenes seen on the mage-wall, most of which involved some male or other groveling at Bulma's feet or at least grudgingly obeying the short-fused woman. Both of them decided to keep their thoughts to themselves for a minute so that Bulma wouldn't turn any more of that temper on them.  
"All right." Bulma crossed her arms and glared a Bulma-glare at them. "You two are related?" When she received two nods as confirmation, she snapped, "Yes or no! Don't just nod!"  
::Yes'm.::  
::Yes ma'am.::  
::We're related.::  
::Yes. Same mother.::  
"All right." Bulma glared further. "Look, you two, we don't have time for bickering--well, if we do, tell me, and I'll let you kill each other--and whatever has to be done has to be done soon, right?"  
They nodded. When Bulma was about to open her mouth again, they each mumbled a ::Yes ma'am.:: and sighed nearly identical sighs of great relief when Bulma continued with her little speech.   
"We're going to talk to Vegeta. Let's go." Bulma turned towards the hospital and began walking briskly towards it, not looking behind her once to see if they followed. They did anyway--The Keeper had the feeling, as her brother must also, that Dragon blood would be shed if they didn't.

* * *  
Vegeta smelled her before he saw her. Before he heard her and almost before he sensed her naturally low ki, he smelled her and her blood among the various other smells of the hospital, the nasty sterilizing smells, the ever-so-faint vomit smells, the not-so-faint smells of humans recently bleeding . . .  
Bulma's blood?!  
Vegeta stiffened, a terrible, possessive anger making him see spots in front of his eyes and a sudden jumping feeling in his stomach.  
If he'd smelled that a week ago, he wouldn't have been worried, but it wasn't that time for her, he knew it wasn't.  
He snarled and made a Vegeta-shaped hole in the wall as he rushed out to confront whatever had harmed his mate, not seeing the point of using the door in such a situation and not the person who would care if he had.  
"Vegeta, don't you dare hurt him, he didn't do anything wrong!" Bulma yelped, deducing his intention from the look on his face.  
Vegeta stopped, arm raised in the air, just about to launch his ki blast at the smallish black-colored Dragon looming over his mate. "Well, whom do I attack then?" he demanded, eyes searching her body for the wound.  
"No one." She put her hands on her hips and scowled up at him. "And certainly not the Tester!"  
"The what?!" Vegeta snarled again, this time a rougher, more animal-like sound that erupted from deep within his lungs and exploded when it came into contact with the air. His white sphere of ki energy double its size before he decided that worrying about Bulma was more important than the Tester and extinguished it.  
"The Tester. You see, the big black Dragon right there?" Bulma pointed, and when she did Vegeta spotted the dark red stain on the back of her shirt.  
"Big black Dragon." Vegeta repeated as he maneuvered towards her, trying to see her back better. Of course, he could have just asked her to turn around, but a Saiyan Prince didn't ask, and she hardly ever listened when he ordered her to do something--the only times she did listen were when she was terrified out of her mind and he was in Super Saiyan mode, the only thing between her and imminent death or worse. At that point she usually took advice such as "Duck!" literally even if he tacked something like 'stupid woman' or 'you moron' on as punctuation. "Big, ugly, stupid black Dragon," he said off-handedly, a one-minded Saiyan focused on the fact that his mate was hurt (though not too badly, or she certainly wouldn't be able to stand down there and yell at him). The Tester had not, by Bulma's own word, been the one to hurt her, and so there was no point in coming up with better insults or tearing him into little bits.  
::Big, ugly, stupid black Dragon out of frightening bedtime stories certain Saiyans wet the bed after hearing,:: sneered the Tester. ::I wouldn't be so rude to the Dragon if I were you, oh bet-wetting Prince.::  
::OCRAM!:: another voice exploded inside Vegeta's mind.  
Vegeta froze for exactly .0007 seconds, taking in what had just been said of him, before slamming into Super Saiyan. With no preliminaries, he dove down at fullest speed, screaming like a lunatic with his teeth gritted and fists clenched, not bothering to form a ki blast--he was angry, positively furious, raging both inwardly and out; he wanted to tear into the Tester with his bare hands. Nothing else would do, not for that kind of insult, nothing . . .   
He slammed into something he could not see, something hard and unyielding, like an invisible brick wall made to withstand a Saiyan's temper or possibly far worse. He slammed into it, and immediately sagged, falling limply to the ground as though made of jelly.  
It took nearly thirty seconds for him to catch his breath; he wasn't used to having it knocked out of him anymore. It was a nasty, terrible, frightening feeling--and it reminded him of the past he didn't want to remember, the past before Bulma, before Kakkarot, before even Carrot . . .  
He shut his eyes tightly and ordered those flitting memories to go away immediately.  
And because of the wall he'd built around them long ago, they did fade a bit--but they remained at the outer edges of his consciousness, and he knew that they'd come back the moment he didn't have anything pressing to think about.  
He ordered himself to stop thinking about it, and his mind snapped back to the present.  
His entire right side from waist up pulsed with dull pain as he heaved himself onto his feet blindly, and he knew he'd have one nasty, enormous bruise within a few short hours.  
"Vegeta! Are you all right?" Bulma asked frantically, on her knees beside him and rising to her feet. He wondered vaguely why she sounded so worried, and managed to gasp out some guttural, harsh, and unintelligible syllables--at least that's what they were to Bulma.  
"What?" she inquired.  
This was the first time in years he'd forgotten that she didn't speak the tongue he'd been raised on until kidnapped by Frieza at age five. He couldn't remember the last time he had slipped . . .   
"I said 'I'm fine,'" he translated as he crossed his arms and glared at the Dragon. "In my language." He did not tell her that that had been only one of the syllables and that the rest had been extremely offensive curses directed at the parentage of the Tester and said Tester's bedding partners. He didn't think she needed to know--and the Tester obviously did know what had been said, for his invisible barrier was now quite visible, a ripple in the air resembling that which sometimes distorted faraway things in the heat of summer. His eyes were widened with something that might have been anger or fear at the ferocity of Vegeta's curses.  
"Well, speak Japanese so I can understand you!" she scolded, brushing off her pants then putting her hands on her hips. She turned on the Tester, whose eyes, Vegeta noticed, grew considerably rounder as he backed away as if he didn't quite trust his barrier to hold out from Bulma's fury. "And you . . . you . . ." she couldn't seem to come up with anything to say to him. After a few seconds, she threw her hands in the air and sighed pointedly.  
And winced.  
Vegeta's attention didn't waver once it had snapped back to her; she noticed, and being a perceptive genius and fluent as far as understanding her mate went, her expression softened from exasperation to something else. "I'm fine." She informed her Prince in a gentle tone.  
Vegeta took her word for it, but muttered "Stupid woman" under his breath.  
He figured that she was smart enough to know if she was hurt too badly--she was standing in a parking lot in front of a hospital, for Kami's sake, she was intelligent enough to get a doctor from inside if she needed one . . .   
Wasn't she?  
Vegeta was growing increasingly doubtful of that.   
He decided to go back inside and haul out a doctor to make sure that Bulma was all right.  
::No need, Prince Vegeta,:: came that other mind voice, the one that had screamed directly after the Tester's verbal assault, ::She's fine. She bled some, but not much--it looks like a lot, but blood is strange that way. She'll be a little sore until it heals, but she doesn't need a doctor unless you must get reassurance from one--and believe me, you don't. I know about human anatomy.::  
A tiny white Dragon came into view behind the Tester and flew straight through his barrier, which seemed to cling to her and change its shape to suit the new distance she was putting between herself and the Tester. She paused, looked over her shoulder, stared at the clear stuff attached to her shoulder, and shook her head. It detached itself from her and settled back into the half-globe around the Tester that it had been in before.  
::You've met Ocram, the Tester, the Black Dragon, whatever it is my brother calls himself, but I don't believe I've been introduced,:: she said when she was not even a foot away from Vegeta and level with his chin. ::My name is Tshala, my rank is as the Keeper of the Records, and my title is the White Dragon.::  
::And now the bed-wetting Prince is going to tell you his name, his rank, and his title--considering the size of his ego, this could take the rest of the day and half the night. Wake me up when he's done trying to impress you.::  
Before Vegeta could reply, the little White Dragon whirled around and snapped, ::Shut up, Ocram! You, especially, should not be so--:: Here she stopped, as though there was simply no word to describe the atrocity of her brother's behavior. (There was: obnoxious.)  
::'So' what?:: the Tester asked, eyes narrowing into slits, cocking his head to one side. His ears perked up and he leaned forward; his barrier thinned a bit and almost became entirely invisible. ::Please continue, oh sister mine.::  
::--DAMNED IDIOTIC!::  
Spikes shot up from where the Tester's neck met his head to the tip of his tail--his version of a bristle?--and his golden eyes flamed a deep, almost red orange. It created an eerie effect, considering the total, unadulterated black color his scales boasted, and it made Vegeta remember the nature of the 'bedtime stories' he had been told at the age of three. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck rose, and the skin on his arms prickled into goosebumps.  
Dark smoke trickled out of the Tester's right nostril as his barrier rippled, creating an even stranger--and more frightening--sight. He took an aggressive posture--hind legs spread behind him for balance, head lowered almost to the ground, teeth showing, wings half-furled at his sides, and one foreclaw bunched into a fist while the other touched the ground.  
This, Vegeta realized, was not a good thing. Even the Keeper, loud-mouthed though she was, quivered a bit--and she didn't seem to be the sort to often be afraid of her brother.  
And then something good--in a pathetic package--happened.  
"Oh!" Kakkarot poked the Tester's barrier with his index finger. "Ow . . . I can't poke through it . . . cool! How'd you do that? That's neat!"  
Vegeta had the compulsion to bury his face in his hands and stay in that position for about a day groaning about Kakkarot's lack of substance between the ears. But he didn't. Instead, he crossed his arms, glared at Kakkarot, and then groaned about Kakkarot's lack of substance between the ears.  
::You think so?:: the Tester inquired, in a pleasant tone. ::Thank you, very much.::  
Vegeta looked at the Dragon, and his glare faded away as he took in the way the Tester's spikes were lying back down, the way he'd folded his wings up smartly to his sides, the way his eyes had switched back to plain golden--he looked completely docile now.  
How did Kakkarot do things like this?  
Vegeta didn't know. He didn't think he wanted to know.  
As a matter of fact, he was absolutely certain that he didn't want to know.  
But he still wanted to know.  
And that made perfect sense.  
::Enough of this,:: the Keeper announced in a commanding tone. ::It's about time we set about explaining.::  
::Do we have to? I'm happy enough leaving them in the dark and trying to forget all about Them.::  
::Too bad. You let Them loose, you brought Them here--your fault.::  
::Hmph.::  
"Well, it's about time you two explained something!" Bulma vocalized enthusiastically. "Feel free to start right now.  
::Can't,:: the Tester said.  
"Why not?" Vegeta rumbled.  
::Everyone has to be here.::  
Vegeta's stomach fell. "Everyone? Who is everyone?"  
::All those with Saiyan blood and their immediate families.::  
"Oh." His stomach stopped falling and jumped back to its normal place in his middle. He had thought the Dragon meant everyone as in everyone . . . which was far too many people for comfort.  
"So that means we need Gohan, Goten, me, Vegeta, Trunks, Bra--who else?" Kakkarot asked, counting on his fingers.  
"Immediate families," Bulma mused. "You," she pointed to Kakkarot, "Your sons, Chi-Chi, Videl, Pan, Vegeta, Trunks, Marron, Bra . . . and me. Oh yeah, and Carrot."  
::One more,:: the Keeper prodded gently. Bulma looked up at her, momentarily confused; Vegeta was equally so. Then understanding lit up Bulma's face; Vegeta had no idea why.  
"There are no more!" he protested.  
::There is one.::  
"Yeah."  
"Who?" Vegeta and Kakkarot asked in unison.  
::Well . . .::  
"Well?" Vegeta prompted.  
::Kakkarot has a younger version of himself running around . . . well, more like sitting in a hospital room . . .::  
"So?"  
::So . . . if one Saiyan could have a younger version of himself in this time, why couldn't another?::  
Vegeta stared, blankly, as the Keeper's words sank through his skull. He thought about this for a truly eternal moment before exploding. "WHAT?!"  
The Keeper wasn't in the least bit intimidated. ::Unless I am slurring my speech, you heard me correctly. And I am not slurring--I have never slurred, except when drunk. And that was only once--normally, drink does nothing whatsoever to my system, and I can speak as clearly as I--::  
"I couldn't care less about your drinking habits." Vegeta snapped. "So shut up about them and explain."  
The Keeper nodded.  
The Tester was oddly silent as his sister continued with, ::You, too, have a younger self in this time. He arrived a short while ago. In essence, he is you at five years old.::  
Silence as Vegeta thought about this.  
Their surprise was as nothing compared to his when he did not start screaming like a raving lunatic after about two minutes' time. When he did speak, it was in a low tone, not a dangerous tone but a firm, take-no-nonsense one. He turned to the Tester to ask, "And what is he doing here? Does this have anything to do with that test of mine?"  
::Oh, no,:: the Tester shook his head from side to side. ::I have decided there is no need for that--this is more important.::  
::For once in your life, you say something sensible,:: the Keeper commented. ::Is this going to be a temporary or permanent arrangement?::  
::Shut up,:: the Tester replied, lashing his great tail back and forth. ::The Nameless are quite enough a threat for me to forego your test,:: he stated to the Prince, pointedly looking past his sister.  
"The WHAT?!" Vegeta squeaked, turning pale.  
::Ocram!:: the Keeper scolded. ::We'll explain that later!::  
::Fine. But you understand, Prince Vegeta, why--::  
"Yes."  
::Good.::  
"What's going on here?" Bulma demanded in a screech.  
Neither the Tester or the Keeper answered this; they stayed stone-silent, stone-still--it was as if time had stopped so they could neglect to answer Bulma's question. She glared at them, then turned on Vegeta.  
"You obviously know something about this."  
Vegeta turned his head. He couldn't hope to explain this to her, especially not without the further information the two Dragons could provide. Besides, he had no fact regarding The Nameless--he had heard stories, of course, but that had been a long time ago and he wasn't sure if he could remember all of them even if they were entirely true.  
He had never been a fan of the villains in legend; they were boring, and invariably got defeated--or imprisoned--in the end. They were incredibly stupid.  
Except for those who weren't.  
In either case, stupid or not, there was always a hero faster, stronger, or just plain smarter than the villain. That wasn't always the way it worked in real life, but then, no one was going to make a legend out of a villain who won--unless they glorified said villain's role in the story and made the good guy out to be the villain . . .   
Vegeta scowled; he didn't have time to think about this now!  
"Well, what are you waiting for?" he growled at Kakkarot.  
"Huh?" came the idiot's reply as he scratched his head. "Waiting for what, Vegeta? Huh?"  
"GO GET THE REST OF THEM SO WE CAN GET AN EXPLANATION TODAY, YOU IDIOT!" Vegeta exploded.  
"Oh, okay. Why didn't you just say that instead of--"  
"COULD YOU JUST GO?!"  
"All right, all right!" Kakkarot threw up his hands in surrender. "Gohan and Goten first," he said. He put two fingers to his forehead and disappeared.  
Vegeta sighed a heavy sigh of exasperation. Bulma gave him the Look.  
"What?" he protested.  
"You could be a little bit nicer to Goku, you know," she said after a minute.  
"Why would I want to do that?" Vegeta sneered and crossed his arms.  
"I DON'T KNOW! JUST TO BE A NICER PERSON MAYBE!"  
Vegeta stared blankly.  
"Fine. Forget I mentioned it." Bulma growled dangerously, crossing her arms and turning to look at the hospital, as though she would literally explode if she kept looking at him.  
"Fine."  
After Kakkarot had reappeared to deposit his sons--the younger of whom had red eyes and was sniffling and the older of whom looked very sympathetic--and disappeared again to get his oldest son's mate, Bulma decided to go get Bra, who, it was assumed, had stayed in the hospital, as no one had seen her leave.  
Vegeta watched his mate go, then decided that he, too, would be of assistance in rounding up people. He flew into the hospital ahead of Bulma, fully intending to find Carrot and scrutinize this five-year-old version of himself.

* * *  
Carrot stared at the board in dismay. "What do you mean, you win? I'm not losing!"  
"No, you're not," Wolvwin agreed. "But I just won."  
"But--"  
Wolvwin swept all the disks off the board, folded it, lay it down beside himself, and began to gather up the cards. He grabbed Carrot's cards right out of his hand and received no protest, for Carrot was trying desperately to figure this out.  
"--If you win, that means I lost. Someone wins, someone loses. That's the way it is!"  
Wolvwin looked up from where he was straightening the deck of cards and shuffling them. He grinned. "Nah. Not in Wocka. In this game, either someone wins or someone loses, unless both sides are equal in number of cards and pieces and one of the players does exactly the right moves at exactly the right times. That's complicated though, and even I can't do it; it's a play called the Colored Moons, and only a few Saiyans still living can manage it. It's too hard to explain until you can play decently."  
"Wasn't I?" Carrot asked weakly, still not understanding how Wolvwin could win and he, Carrot, could not lose but not win either.  
"No. That was a terrible game." Wolvwin shrugged. "So was my first, honestly. But mine was just a little bit better."  
"Uh-huh."  
"Because my kaasan let me win."  
Carrot marveled that Wolvwin had admitted that; knowing Vegeta very well, he knew that the older Saiyan would never ever admit such a thing.  
"Oh." Carrot murmured, a bit concerned at the sudden stab of pain on the other Saiyan's face. He decided to say nothing about it; he had the feeling it would either embarrass Wolvwin a great deal or just upset him.  
"Play again?" Wolvwin inquired hastily, in a definite changing-the-subject voice. The tip of his tail twitched nervously.  
"Sure; why not? I've still got a lot of story to tell you. I still haven't gotten to the part where Frieza kills you."  
Carrot had begun the tale from what he knew of Vegeta's time with Frieza (which was not much), had jumped to when he'd tried to kill Goku on Earth that first time (Wolvwin hadn't taken that so badly; apparently, his ego was not developed as much as Vegeta's quite yet.), and then had gotten all the way to the point where Vegeta had found his first Dragonball. He'd have gotten further, but for the fact that he'd had to explain the concept of Dragonballs to Wolvwin, for apparently it was a new and entirely alien concept to the young Prince; Wolvwin didn't quite get the point of immortality, either. Carrot thought this might have something to do with the fact that Wolvwin had not spent years of his life under Frieza's rule.   
His young mind couldn't quite puzzle out the reason for this, couldn't comprehend the helplessness Vegeta had felt under that tyrant, nor the need for power that began in the early days when the Prince realized that Frieza ruled because of power and power alone and that he himself would never get away from Frieza until he had power greater, a forever power. If he could never die, then he could kill Frieza, for Frieza was mortal. A Saiyan's power grew with every battle, and if one had eternity to battle without worry of death . . .  
Carrot didn't fully understand, but he had tried to explain what he did understand.  
"I DIED?!" Wolvwin jumped to his feet, fists balled up and tail suddenly lashing the air behind him. "I DIED?! I THOUGHT I WAS ALIVE!"  
"You are. You were brought back by the Dragonballs. And then you died again some years later. I forget exactly how you came back then. You died twice, and you're still alive. Lucky."  
"Oh." Wolvwin sat back down, and his tail wrapped around his waist again. He had a strange look on his face, like he'd tried to eat fifteen bags of marshmallows in one sitting only to discover he didn't like the taste fourteen and a half bags into it. "Well then. Let's play Wocka." The Prince tried a smile, which turned out crooked and sad and not in the least bit like a real smile.  
Wolvwin unfolded his board again and divided up the cards and disks exactly as he had before.  
"Kay." Carrot examined his hand. He made a face. "These aren't good cards; can we switch?"  
"No." Wolvwin did smile then, and he looked quite pleasant and friendly when he did so. "I'll just have to win."  
"Or I'll have to lose."  
"What's the fun in that? I want to win."  
"Good point. But maybe you'll lose. Or maybe I'll win."  
"Not likely." Wolvwin's smile turned into a grin. "Because I'm going to win." His was a bantering tone now, and Carrot felt giddy. He'd had very little contact with children his own age before this; if the Prince had never had a real friend before, neither had Carrot. Goku didn't count; child at heart or no, Goku was an adult, grandfather age, over sixty years old.  
"What makes you think that? Just 'cause you think you're smarter than me--"  
"I think? A Saiyan Prince doesn't think anything. A Saiyan Prince knows."  
"But what if you know wrongly? What if you're wrong?"  
"Not possible."  
"Uh-huh."  
"Hmph." With this, Wolvwin plunked up one of his pieces and moved it to a square beside it, then moved the rest of his pieces in turn. He looked at his cards, made a 'hmm' sound deep in his throat, and waved his hand to indicate that Carrot should take his turn.  
"Can I forfeit?" Carrot inquired, glancing back at his hand.  
"No. That would mean that you lose. And I want to win."  
Carrot sighed. He didn't know much about this game yet but what losing had taught him (Never, EVER run out of cards, don't discard anything because your opponent most likely can profit from it, sacrificing one of those disks--also called red-disks, according to the terminology of the game--is a BAD idea when it's only your second turn, and if Wocka looked and seemed a bit like checkers on the surface it was NOT.), which wasn't much at all. He had not yet learned the timeless strategies that, when not expected, could lead to the most spectacular of wins, and he had not learned even one of the strategies a new-time player learns on his own.  
In the words of an old clichéé, he had a long way to go.  
And he knew it.  
He found himself making a 'hmm' noise quite like Wolvwin's as he surveyed the board, the cards in his hand, and then the board again. His 'hmm' evolved into a guttural growl as he considered his options.  
"Try red-disk in the corner towards the center one square, red-disk in the other corner--doesn't matter which one--forward, leave the rest, and don't do anything with those cards yet," advised a familiar voice from the doorway at just the moment when Carrot would have thrown the cards on the ground and violently forfeited.  
"Huh?" Carrot said, eyes narrowing at the board. "What good would that do?"  
"Just do it, brat."  
"No fair!" Wolvwin shouted, standing up. "That's cheating! You can't do that! No helping!" His tail was out behind him again, lashing once more, though this time it was making a sound as it whipped the wind, a sound rather like the wheezing noises that sometimes came from any old machine of Bulma's that needed to be lubricated. It also sounded a bit like when the windows were open on the car and Bulma was doing eighty.  
"Silence, rodent!" Vegeta barked, stepping into the room.  
Carrot gulped, sensing the dangerous aura behind Vegeta's token glare. He had a bad feeling about this; there was just something cold in Vegeta's eyes, something that would only need the smallest spark to alight and then go boom.  
And he had a feeling that there was something far worse than a spark that would set the older Saiyan off; and somehow, he knew that that feeling was right, although he couldn't quite figure out why.  
"I AM NOT A RODENT! I AM A SAIYAN PRINCE!" Wolvwin hollered, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. He glanced over at Vegeta, looked away, and then looked back, eyes wide in something like horror. His tail stopped in mid-swing, off to his right side, and all the hairs on it stood up.  
Carrot wondered, in some faraway corner of his mind, if his tail was that expressive, too. He also wondered why Wolvwin's demeanor had changed so suddenly and completely.  
"So?" Vegeta sneered and crossed his arms, his gaze growing ever colder as he looked at Wolvwin. "I'm a Saiyan Prince, too."  
"You're . . . me?" Wolvwin relaxed, and his tail began swinging from side to side again, this time slowly and hesitantly, halting for a bare instant every eighth of a full swing.  
"Who else would I be?" The older Prince stopped, seeming to consider something before continuing. "And no, I highly doubt that I'm you."  
Carrot knew what Vegeta meant; he meant that Wolvwin was not him just like Carrot was not Goku--because Goku had lived life, and Carrot had only begun, and the same was probably true of Wolvwin and Vegeta.  
Carrot could have had no way of knowing exactly how true that moment of a child's insight was.  
"I can see the sense in the latter, but why'd you say the former? Why say that you're me and then claim that you doubt you are? That doesn't make sense--where along the line did you forget how to agree with your own words?"  
Vegeta's eyebrows drew closer to one another as he narrowed his eyes. "Be quiet, rodent, before I get angry!"  
Wolvwin's response was instantaneous--and, Carrot thought, very, very Vegeta. "Oh, I'm scared," the young Prince drawled, his tail now almost entirely still down by his ankles, its tip twitching only a very little bit.  
"You should be," Vegeta replied in a low, frightening tone.  
"Yeah, you definitely should be," Carrot agreed, lurching to his feet and stumbling forward to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the younger Prince. He sent a pleading look to Vegeta as he continued with, "That's Vegeta you're mouthing off to."  
He noted that Vegeta's eyes narrowed just a little bit at this; Carrot never called Vegeta anything but 'Tousan', and this sudden change was likely more than a bit of a surprise--and probably an annoyance, as well.  
Carrot barely caught the flicker of another emotion in Vegeta's expression, but he didn't recognize it when his eyes noted it; if he had, he would have known that the Prince was hurt at the sudden switch. He'd gotten used to 'Tousan', after the 'Da-dee' stage, and he was still trying to get used to that.  
But Carrot didn't want Wolvwin to know what his connection to Vegeta was, at least not yet; the other Saiyan looked quite overwhelmed already, and Carrot hadn't even gotten to tell about his real, biological children yet.  
Nor had he said a word about Super Saiyans, which was also quite wise, for that was also something that Wolvwin would react to quite strongly.  
Wolvwin considered Carrot for a moment. "Just how scared should I be?" he asked.  
Carrot thought about it. "You should be scared enough to shut up and show respect. Unless you're suicidal, in which case I'd suggest making him really mad so that he just looses it and kills you outright instead of drawing it out."  
Wolvwin's coal-black eyes caught Carrot's, and he felt as though they were piercing straight through him; it was an uncomfortable feeling, as though the young Prince could see straight into his soul.  
He did not know that it was a trick devised from the solemnity of a young child who was the King-to-be, who must always, always be able to win in a battle of wills, even if it be only a staring contest. It was a method of survival, for if a Prince were not strong at all times, it would be noticed.  
This was not a staring contest, however. This was simply a way for Wolvwin to determine whether Carrot told the truth or not; rarely, if ever, can a liar lie with his eyes. This holds true for Saiyan liars in particular.  
And this was a very important matter, in the young Prince's eyes.  
Carrot kept his eyes steady as the Prince searched his face, and felt strangely pleased when the Prince nodded. "I believe you," Wolvwin said. He shrugged. "I mean, he is me, after all . . . which has to mean something . . ."  
"It means a damn lot more than your puny mind could ever comprehend," Vegeta growled.  
Wolvwin thought about this. "Well, if I could never comprehend it, then how do you? If I could never comprehend it, how could you ever have the chance? I am you."  
"No. You are not," Vegeta snapped. "Nor will you ever be."  
There was something tearing in the older Saiyan's tone, something so terrible that Carrot didn't know the name for it, something far beyond hate and far beyond loathing. Something that was directed not at Wolvwin but at something else, someone else, some emotion so dark and shadowed that Carrot wondered how Vegeta could bear it.  
Carrot shuddered.  
Wolvwin only shrugged.  
Carrot's head hurt; he wondered how Wolvwin's head felt, and decided the feeling was probably mirrored there. After all, the young Prince had had to absorb a lot more than Carrot today, and Carrot wasn't halfway done bringing him up to date on the last three-quarters of a century--or more, or less. Carrot wasn't too sure how old his self-appointed father was.

* * *  
Bra scowled at her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she wiped her hands dry on a paper towel. But after a minute, the scowl broke and there was that girl again, the red-eyed one with a quivering lower lip who looked as though she might cry.  
Goten . . .   
Her shoulders hunched over and she began to tremble as she thought about him, and what he had asked her that afternoon.  
And what I've lost . . .  
Bra was a realist; she was not about to deny that she loved that man, nor would she try to convince even herself that she didn't want to love him. However, she could try to block that portion of her heart off, try not to feel anything, as she had until she met him.  
Well . . . not until she'd met him, really. She'd known him forever, at least forever to her; she couldn't remember a time when he'd been a stranger, when she hadn't recognized his face. But he'd always been her brother's friend, an affectionate--though slightly lacking in the area of brains--boy, with eyes that laughed at the world, not as though making fun of it but as if it were the most wonderful place in the universe to be. She had not loved him then, nor had she for most of the time she had known him.  
She knew when she had begun to love him.  
Or, at the very least, she knew when the possibility for love had come. The love itself . . . well, it had not come suddenly, but it had grown from respect to friendship to infatuation. Then that infatuation had died down to fondness, and that fondness magnified itself fiercely until it became--finally--love.  
You shouldn't analyze yourself, Bra, dear, she thought, trying with all her will power to retrieve that fierce scowl that was all her own. It'll only make you feel worse, and Kami knows that that won't do.  
She turned the cold water faucet on. When the warm water became as cold as it would get--which was very cold, and plenty good enough for her--she held her hair back with one hand and splashed her face with the other. The shock of the icy water made her instantly feel a little bit better, as it did early every day when she awoke or had been up all night and needed something to make her feel more alert. She let her bangs go after she rubbed her face dry with another paper towel and sighed.  
She peered at her reflection once more, and this time managed a half-scowl that mostly hid the evidence that she'd been crying.  
There was a sharp rap on the door just then, startling Bra so that she literally jumped five feet into the air.  
"Bra? Are you in there?" came a somewhat muffled voice from the other side of the door. "Bra, dear, if you're in there you need to come out, because it seems that your father suddenly has a five-year-old self running around, the Tester is here, the Tester's sister is here, and--"  
Bra unlatched the bathroom door and peeked out at her mother, holding the door between them as if that would keep Bulma from seeing that she'd been crying. "What, what, and what?" she asked, suddenly forgetting most of her vocabulary and how to come up with a coherent sentence. "Dad has a . . . the Tester . . . isn't he the guy who? . . . a sister? . . . when did this . . . great Kami, you miss a lot in half an hour!"  
Bulma laughed and grinned, as though she couldn't be happier that she'd totally bewildered her daughter. "You'll miss a whole lot more if you don't come out for the explanation," she said, still grinning.  
Bra stepped out into the hallway and regarded her mother askance. "Kaasan, what's going on?"  
"Well, I'm not entirely sure," Bulma admitted, "but I'm going to find out!"  
Bra sighed. "How long is 'finding out' going to take? Should I bring a pillow for sleeping's sake? For that matter, should I bring a sleeping bag? A mattress? An entire bed?"  
"I think your head would be enough; there will be no sleeping involved. The Dragons--the Tester and his sister--are going to fill us in just as soon as we've rounded up everyone."  
"Everyone?" Bra did some mental calculation, and didn't like the figure she came up with very much. "Everyone? Please tell me that everyone isn't everyone!"  
"This time, the definition of everyone is 'Goku, his family. Vegeta, us.' According to the Tester, that means 'all those with Saiyan blood and their immediate families.'"  
Bra let out the breath she'd been holding in. "Oh. Good."  
Bulma looked quite amused at this.  
"What?" Bra demanded as the corner of her mother's mouth twitched.  
"Oh, nothing," Bulma said slyly. "it's just that Vegeta didn't seem to like the idea of everyone as in everyone either . . . Vegeta! Damn! I swear, if he's gone to terrorize--" As she said this, Bulma frowned, crossed her arms, and whirled around to look down the left corridor. She began to walk away, but stopped before she'd gone five steps. "Bra? Where's Carrot's room?"  
"Room 134, third floor," Bra answered, not noticing at first the dark red stain on the back of her mother's shirt. When she did, she didn't hesitate to shriek, "Kaasan! What happened to you?! You're bleeding!"  
Bulma looked back. "Bra, dear, you're stating the obvious; I know I'm bleeding. Come to think of it, I don't think I'm bleeding--not anymore. I was, but I'm not now. As for what happened," she said, in that irritated-Bulma tone that meant that she thought someone was overreacting, "I barely missed getting fried by a ki blast, that's all. I'm fine."  
"Blood all over the back of your shirt is far from fine!" Bra protested. "Almost getting fried by a ki blast is as far from fine as you can get! Kaasan--"  
"Bra, I am fine," Bulma snapped.  
"But--" Bra protested.  
"But nothing!" Bulma cut her off. "I. Am. Just. Fine."  
Noting the tone of her kaasan's voice and the edge in her eyes, Bra decided to let it go but decided to keep an eye on Bulma anyway. Just until she knew who had hurt Bulma, anyway, at which point she would pass the information on to Vegeta (Unless there was some perfectly logical explanation, like it had been an accident or someone had mistaken Bulma for a person who could take a ki blast.) so that whoever deserved it would die.  
True to say that Vegeta was protective of his wife. Even more true to say that the feeling had been passed on to both his children, and they were far more likely to agree with him on matters involving Bulma's safety than just about anything else.  
This included the belief that anyone who intentionally harmed Bulma deserved to die, without any sort of annoying preliminary like, say, a jury trial.  
Bra crossed her arms over her chest and, not having the slightest idea just how like her tousan she was capable of looking, skulked after Bulma as the green-haired woman headed for the nearest elevator.

* * *  
Vegeta scowled at the five-year-old copy of himself, and was very irritated when the young Prince scowled back, looking quite as nasty as the Prince remembered himself as being at that age. He crossed his arms and tightened his facial features so that he was scowling what Bulma fondly called the scowl-of-death or Vegeta-not-getting-his-way-ness-and-letting-you-know-it. Currently, it was the scowl-of-death.  
And Wolvwin was mirroring it, in a five-year-old-ish, snotty, spoiled brat way.  
Vegeta didn't like that much.  
Vegeta wasn't scowling because he didn't like the kid; no, he wouldn't bother to do that. If he'd had nothing better to do than think obscenities at Wolvwin, he'd have ignored the kid, left the room, or something like that. Instead, he stood here, waiting for Wolvwin to speak and for some odd reason anxious about what might be said.  
Well . . . no, the reason wasn't that strange. It was a predictable reason, really . . .  
If it was possible, his scowl deepened still further. His eyebrows drew closer to one another and the muscles in his arms tensed up.  
Why should I care what he thinks? Why should I? So The Nameless are here. So it's my fault. So?  
It's not like I need his approval, or anything stupid like that.  
Or was it?  
A low grumble began deep in Vegeta's throat, but he swallowed it before it could become a full-voiced roar.  
He did not like this feeling. He did not like it at all.   
He did not like Wolvwin. He did not like the look on Wolvwin's face, the accusations that screeched just below the young Prince's surface, that smoldered in his eyes.  
Why should he feel shame? He had done nothing wrong . . .   
But in Wolvwin's eyes, he had. Oh, yes, he had done something more than wrong, something so terrible that he might as well be something disgusting only existing to be wiped off of someone's boot.  
He had done nothing wrong.  
But Wolvwin didn't see it that way.  
So the older Prince and his newly arrived doppelganger glared at each other, the one glaring hate, the other glaring death half-heartedly.  
"Erm . . ." Carrot began, his voice cutting through the tension throughout Vegeta's body and mind, "Could you tell me . . . what are The Nameless?"  
Vegeta would have answered; Wolvwin would have beaten him to it.  
But at that point, Bulma came rushing it, Bra behind her, and stepped between Wolvwin and Vegeta. She was breathing hard, as though she'd run the whole way, and she managed to blow out something that sounded like "Ifyouhurthimyoucanfindsomewhereelsetolivebecauseyouwillnotstayundermyroofifyou'regonnagoaroundslaughteringlittlekidswhojusthappentobeyou," and then went back to the business of gasping for breath and attempting the Look. That latter did not turn out so well, for the Look is something that should only be attempted when the person undertaking it is not winded.  
"Yeah!" Bra agreed, nodding once in emphasis and craning to catch a glimpse of Wolvwin. She grinned and added after a few seconds, "You were very cute at that age, Tousan!"  
Vegeta growled low in his throat, and received a reproachful glance from both his mate and his daughter.  
"I am the Prince of the Saiyans! I am not 'cute'!" Wolvwin protested from behind Bulma, sidling between her and Bra to glare at Vegeta's daughter with his arms over his chest and that bratty frown plastered on his features. "And what do you mean, 'Tousan'?"  
"What do you think she means, rodent?" Vegeta sneered, sighing inwardly because he knew what his biases had been at that age, and wishing that Bulma hadn't made it so clear that he was not to harm Wolvwin.  
He had a feeling that she meant that hurried threat, too. He had the feeling that she meant it every bit as much as he meant to get his past self out of his life as soon as possible.  
Wolvwin snarled. "So there is a reason The Nameless are here. Good. I was wondering. This means that I might be left alone--after all, I'm not the one who sired a mongrel. He said so himself--I'm not him."  
Vegeta reminded himself that he didn't really mind Bulma's company so much and being thrown out of the house was not a desirable thing.  
But it didn't take more than .0007 of a second for him to ignore this good sense, bypass Bulma, grab the kid by the collar, and slam him into the closest wall. Hard. Not hard enough to destroy said wall--he had at least that much control, and he didn't want to kill the kid without making him suffer some--but hard enough so that Wolvwin certainly felt it  
"Stupid kid," Bra remarked blithely somewhere behind the buzzing inside Vegeta's skull.  
"Bra!" Bulma scolded.  
"Kaaaaaaaasan! He called me a mongrel! What am I supposed to do? Sympathize?" Bra protested.  
"Not with Vegeta!"  
Vegeta put them out of his mind and began to chastise Wolvwin Vegeta-style, tone low and solemn as he put the five-year-old straight on a number of matters. There was the ever-present fact that there were no Saiyan women left, and of course he felt obligated to point this out. And everyone hated The Nameless anyway, so defying Their threat was a good thing.   
Besides that, Bulma was a better mate than any Saiyan who would ever have been a candidate, so Wolvwin'd best not make one more comment about it. Vegeta's children--hai, plural!--who were most certainly not mongrels, were in fact prime examples of what every Saiyan should be.  
It was a good thing he said none of this in Japanese and instead used his own language.  
He never would have lived it down.

* * *  
Carrot listened to Vegeta and Wolvwin, mouth wide open, eyes big and round.  
He had never heard anyone argue in Saiyago before!  
Then again, he'd rarely had chance to hear the language, except when Vegeta swore in it or on one of those occasions when he decided that Carrot needed to know it. At those times, Vegeta would go about teaching Carrot in his own way, which involved speaking to the younger Saiyan only in Saiyago for a few days at a time, never using Japanese and never merely explaining what a word meant. Perhaps he considered explaining as coddling, rather than a method of teaching.  
Whatever the Prince's reason, his method of teaching a language was an exceedingly good one in this case, because Carrot understood almost every word the two Princes were spitting at each other.  
What's more, he knew that here was something he'd best not ever repeat to Bulma, Bra, or anyone else for that matter--because Vegeta would, quite likely, hit Carrot with a ki blast the younger Saiyan was in no way able to block. And then Carrot would be dead.  
He rather liked life, even if he hadn't experienced as much of it as anyone else he knew. He didn't want to leave it quite yet.  
"Doesn't matter how you feel for this mate of yours, nor that there are no Saiyan women left. Mating with an alien is just disgust--"  
At this point in Wolvwin's diatribe, Vegeta backhanded him across the face. A small trickle of blood started at the corner of Wolvwin's mouth and ran down his chin.  
"Little fool! Didn't I just tell you--"  
"Sadly, you did. But I haven't the slightest intention of taking heed of that!"  
Carrot winced. He had the feeling that the little Prince was going to get into far greater trouble than he'd ever hoped for.  
He could feel Bra cringing, and it wasn't hard to see that both of the women in Vegeta's life were torn between helping Wolvwin and staying out of this until and if Vegeta got truly violent (At which point their interference would do no good anyway.).  
"I would listen to him if I were you," Carrot remarked, switching to Saiyago then because it seemed more appropriate, "Because if you don't you're not likely to reach your next birthday. It's not wise to--what's the word I want? I forgot how to pronounce . . . Oh, yeah--anger Vegeta."  
He thought he'd still pronounced the word wrong, for he was getting a strange look from Wolvwin.  
But Vegeta paid him no mind, either to tell him to shut his trap or to correct his articulation with a scowl. The Prince was too busy attempting to let his double know fear to bother.  
Which, truth be told, was a good thing; if Vegeta had to try to get Wolvwin to be more than just a little bit afraid, he wasn't really all that angry. If he'd been angry, Wolvwin would have been quite scared, and not only that but terrified. Vegeta was frightening enough in his normal sullen, mostly silent except when sneering at someone, forever-annoyed Prince mode; he was far worse when truly angry.  
"Well then, you'd damned well better change that intention of yours before I decide to kill you," Vegeta hissed at Wolvwin.  
"Vegeta!" Bulma screeched suddenly. "I know you'd probably like to finish yelling at Wolvwin in a language I can't understand, but weren't we only supposed to be in here to get everyone so that we can go back outside?"  
Vegeta's head turned and his grip on Wolvwin slackened a bit.  
"Why didn't you remember earlier, woman?" he demanded, not quite letting go of Wolvwin.  
Bulma put her hands on her hips. "Oh? It's not like you remembered."  
"Lucky you." Carrot commented to the young Prince, as Vegeta let Wolvwin slip out of his hands in order to cross his arms and glare at his wife.  
The little Saiyan scowled for a moment, pretending bravery, but scampered across the room to plop on top of the hospital bed by Lady when Vegeta turned to look at him again. Carrot chuckled, and received a disgruntled half-growl from Wolvwin, whose entire body posture--shoulders slumped a bit, face twisted into a strange sort of frown, tail sprawled over the edge of the hospital bed--suggested that he was not in the mood to try to put anyone in their place. He had just--sort of--been put in his, and he probably needed to think about it some.  
Carrot shrugged, strolled over to Wolvwin, and hopped up onto the bed. He kicked the air with his feet and said, "Well, you are lucky. Vegeta doesn't usually let people off so easy."  
"Hmph." Wolvwin glanced away to stare at some part of the stainless white wall.  
"You don't like him much, do you?" Carrot inquired after a moment. "How come?"  
"Wolvwin turned back to him and scowled. "You speak Saiyago--do you understand it? Baka! Hearing him and myself speak in this tongue, having spoken it yourself, you should already know the answer to that!"  
Carrot replied in the same tone as well as language. "If you can call me baka, I can call you the same! I heard that you don't like the idea of Bulma as his wife--I'm asking you why!"  
"Mating outside of your own species is wrong, for one thing; like mating with an animal and calling it your life partner. It weakens the bloodlines. And it's just wrong," Wolvwin stated flatly, looking down at the tip of his twitching tail.  
Carrot felt like laughing at this, if only for the bloodlines bit.  
And he would have.  
But just then, a booming voice echoed inside his head, a voice that sounded like it should be familiar but that Carrot couldn't quite place. ::If it pleases the bed-wetting Prince and his flunkies, we are almost all gathered and growing impatient, and all of you should get your sorry--::  
::OCRAM!::  
::--rears out here, before the sun has set and risen again!::  
::Ocram, you--::  
::Sister Mine, shut up.::  
::I shall not!::  
::Then do not attempt to make me do so.::  
::I wouldn't, if only you would stop being so incredibly coarse!::  
::What's so coarse about it?::  
Silence then.  
"What is going on here?" Carrot asked to no one in particular, unconsciously keeping to Saiyago.  
"What's going on?" Bra questioned, not knowing that she echoed Carrot. She balled both of her fists up and waved one threateningly at her father, somehow having decided that this was his fault.  
::If you will get out here, we will tell you!::  
::At least,:: said the other voice, the one that had chastised the loud one before, corrected, ::We will tell you once you are with us and we have gone to a more private place. It would not do for us to be seen by the general populace--most humans would not like to see Dragons in the middle of their cities, even if our far cousins populate the forests. It is only luck and a bit of magic that has kept us from being seen so far.::  
Everyone in the room's reaction was exactly the same at this, by the word of their exclamations if not the language or the facial expressions.  
Wolvwin said it in Saiyago.  
Carrot, Bra, and Bulma said it in Japanese.  
Vegeta said it, first in Saiyago and then in Japanese.  
"MAGIC?!"

* * *  
Outside, the reaction was essentially the same.  
Everyone was used to the idea of the Dragonballs' magic. But somehow, it had never really crossed their minds that there could be other magics.  
Of course, it might have occurred to them that when one deals with the cousins--if ever so distant--of those who are summoned when the Dragonballs are gathered, there might just be magic involved. Might have, if but for the fact that sometimes the obvious just cannot be seen by those closest to it. When referring to the eyes, this is called farsightedness. When dealing with the mind, this is simply referred to a need to exercise that most important of components.  
In other words, it had been a long time since anyone present had had occasion to have to think about something.  
They would have quite a few of those occasions in days to come.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

With an amazingly thunderous 'CRASH!', a very large piece of the wall came flying at Kak'ri. As she was in full possession of the instincts she'd claimed when alive, she saw it before it was too late and ducked accordingly. She was no Elite warrior; dodging walls was not her business. Rather, she happened to be an Adept esper--which meant Nothing At All in the afterlife. At least if she'd been the fighting type, she'd have had something . . .  
Even the dead who are not damned are refused magic there. It is the way of things, and the reason the espers are allowed their freebies.  
But no one is ever refused curiosity. And after she came out of her thoughts, she was indeed curious.  
"Why are you destroying the Keeper's workroom?" she inquired of Benaa.  
"I don't know. I feel like it," the other answered. "Or maybe I'm slightly irritated that she's gone to meddle in my family's life--though she can't be worse than her brother, setting The Nameless loose, can she? It might even be a good thing, her interference, I mean. I don't know." Benaa frowned and kicked at the floor, the tip of her tail twitching at her waist. She shook her head.  
Concerned now--Benaa never rambled--Kak'ri cocked her head to one side and scowled slightly. "And you're worried about this why? There's nothing you can do about it, Benaa-sama. You. Are. Dead."  
"Dead with all of my freebies left, and a probable need to use them, sensei." Benaa smiled a cold, hard smile that held no hint of mirth. "I think it's about that time."  
Kak'ri blinked at her pupil's first statement, but decided now was not the time to ask how Benaa had let the years go by without using any of her freebies, and instead focused on the fact that the Queen must have waited more than half a century to use them. That meant there was something Kak'ri had not been told. "Why now?" she asked simply.  
Benaa crossed her arms and stepped back, tail swishing a 'come in.' She nodded to the side, towards the mage-wall. Kak'ri floated in through the newly blasted hole in the wall and turned her eyes to that magic window. Her eyes remained fixed on it for five full minutes, and then turned back to Benaa, silent and total horror welled in them.   
The Queen's eyes flashed with dark fire as she spat in the same soft, dangerous tone she might use for an oath, "That is why."

* * *  
Chi-Chi wasn't really listening to Goku as he tried, in his own way, to explain exactly what was going on and why he was here explaining it to her rather than simply flying off for who knows how long in order to fix it. Rather, she was gripping the wooden handle of her broom so hard that it was about to snap, gritting her teeth, and thinking nasty, un-Chi-Chi-like thoughts at whatever it was that was going to take her husband away again.  
True, he hadn't actually said he was going to go anywhere, but this sort of thing always involved his leaving her for quite a length of time. Chi-Chi just couldn't stand it; but she knew she couldn't stop it, though she'd tried to often enough in years before. It was just Goku's way, and there was nothing that anyone could do to change it. Far less her.  
She didn't realize that she was about to cry until Goku stopped talking and gazed down at her with concern all over his face. "Chi-Chi?" he asked, "What's the matter? Are you okay?"  
Chi-Chi shook her head. "I'm fine . . ." she murmured, blinking back tears. There was no need to upset poor Goku with her depressing thoughts; and besides, they never convinced him to stay anyway.  
They never seemed to make him properly remorseful either.  
"So," Goku continued after a slightly strained, un-Goku-like moment of silence. "They want everyone in my family and Vegeta's to be there. And since you're in my family, you're coming too, and that's why."  
Chi-Chi's subconscious heard that even as she started to wonder how long he would be gone this time. It took a long moment for her subconscious to report that back to her--it took an even longer moment for the information to soak in.  
"I'm coming with you?" she asked, as it occurred to her that if she went with him things might not be so bad. "Where is it we're going?"  
Goku's face broke into a grin at the sight of her sudden, though pleased, confusion. "You didn't hear a thing I said, did you?" he asked, eyes twinkling in a way that only Goku's eyes could.  
"Yes I did," she retorted. "If I hadn't, how would I know we're going somewhere?"  
Goku thought about this, and after an "Okay," of agreement, he said, "I don't think the Dragons want us to stay in the hospital parking lot, so once we get there I guess we'll go somewhere else. I don't know where yet."  
"Hospital parking lot?"  
Chi-Chi couldn't imagine why they would be there.  
Oh, wait; yes she could. Carrot had gotten hurt . . . Chi-Chi frowned. She hoped he was all right . . . he was Goku, technically, after all, and if there was one person in the world she couldn't bear to be hurt . . .  
"Well, let's go then!" she ordered.  
Goku nodded and tentatively took her hand in his before putting two fingers to his forehead.  
And then, they vanished.  
The feeling of vanishing would forever remain in Chi-Chi's mind as the most horrifying experience of her life--even if it shouldn't have been that way and this certainly wasn't the way instant transportation was supposed to occur.  
She had always thought that 'instant' meant just that, and that her living room--or the wreckage thereof--would be in front of her eyes one moment and gone the next, to be replaced by wherever it was that Goku planned to take her.  
Well, she was no longer seeing her living room.  
But this certainly was not where Goku had intended to take her.

* * *  
Instinctively, Goku intertwined his fingers with Chi-Chi's and pulled her close to him, his cheerful demeanor instantly replaced by a cold, cold seriousness combined with worry and more than a little bit of anger. His hair turned golden, his eyes turquoise, as he stayed quiet, eyes narrowing to study this place.  
He couldn't feel a ki besides his own and Chi-Chi's; that in itself was enough to tell him that this was in fact no error on his part.  
He thought, and knew he was correct in thinking, that this had something to do with the dark shape that had risen above the hospital and the voices that had spoken inside his head afterwards.  
There was no place on Earth that was like this, Goku knew. It was too dark--so dark that even the golden light of his ki didn't allow him to see anything but Chi-Chi; and it was more than disconcerting to realize that most of her was hidden in that shadow too.  
"Goku?" she asked, pressing against him, trembling just a little bit.  
His heart felt as if it would shatter at her fear, and in a voice shaking with rage he knew must be suppressed, he actually managed to sound halfway gentle as he told Chi-Chi not to worry.  
::Oh, you shall not!:: growled a voice from beyond the darkness, another of those voices that he could hear in his head but not with his ears. ::Not here, not today!::  
::That is treason,:: answered one of the terrible voices from earlier, a voice as dark or darker than Goku's present surroundings.  
::It cannot possibly be treason if I was never Nameless in the first place!:: protested the first voice.  
::You forget that you are Nameless, and have been since the beginning.::  
::Baka! How could I retain my name if I were Nameless?:: the first voice pointed out, going on to say, ::This is my hearth; you are not welcome. The Saiyan and his mate, however, are. Leave, and leave now, else you meet your end today!::  
There was a complete, ominous silence after this, that seemed to last forever. And then, something in the atmosphere was gone, something that Goku hadn't felt when he'd first got here but definitely felt when it left.  
::You are in no danger tonight,:: the voice said with satisfaction.  
"Who are you?" Goku asked, his anger slipping away despite the half-need he felt to keep it just in case. "And where are we?"  
::Who I am is unimportant currently, but you may call me G. As for where you are--you are in a small Void tied to Earth.::  
Goku may not have been a genius, or even very smart as far as intelligence is measured, but he didn't like the sound of that. And he was just about to say something to that point when G. continued.  
::On most days, you'd be in a bit of a pickle to get stuck in a place like this. But this is my Void, and I keep it in good condition. Besides, it's a Wednesday and the things are always quite amenable on Wednesdays; I haven't come across a Void yet that went kaput on a Wednesday.::  
Goku nodded slowly, pretty sure that he didn't need to say anything. And he was right.  
::You'll be wanting to go back now, won't you?:: the voice went on, pausing here for Goku to nod again. ::Well, good. I'm not in the mood for company at the moment anyway. Back to Earth you go! Be sure to tell Shorty that I said hello. Also tell him, as he'll want to know, that I'll be very pleased to help if only he can find me. Tell him to ask Kakkarot--no, not you, the little one--where the shadow was, if he needs a clue; but only if he needs it. I'm hoping he's gotten better at Finding things since our last game; perhaps he won't need the clue.::  
"Okay . . ." Goku said slowly, "But who's Shorty?"  
But by the time he asked, the darkness of the Void had left, and he found himself back in his living room, holding on tight to Chi-Chi, wondering what exactly had just happened.  
To her credit, Chi-Chi neither fainted nor started yelling right then. Rather, she stepped away from Goku and put her hands on her hips. "What," she said flatly, "just happened?"  
Goku shrugged.  
And that was when Chi-Chi started yelling.

* * *  
Vegeta's scowled deepened as the reds and oranges of sunset gave to the blue-black of night. Where the hell was Kakkarot? Instant transportation did not take this long; that was why it was instant transportation.  
He, for one, wanted to get this stupid explanation over with, because until then he could do Absolutely Nothing to fix this situation; and if there was one thing Vegeta couldn't stand, it was standing around and feeling useless while Kakkarot took his own sweet time coming back. No, scratch that; he hated being useless while Kakkarot went off and did his own thing.  
"Sit down, Vegeta," Bulma suggested in an irritated tone. "Just standing there isn't going to get Goku here any sooner."  
A 'hmph' was Vegeta's answer, and he continued his almost fevered pacing.  
The Prince wasn't entirely oblivious to everyone else's face; he could see that he wasn't the only one to think that something may just have happened to Kakkarot--something was always happening to Kakkarot; danger was drawn to him like an earthworm to the surface when the rain comes hard. How many times had he died already? Twice? That was more times than Vegeta had--no, he had died twice, too, hadn't he? Funny how he kept forgetting.  
But still. It felt like Kakkarot had died more often.  
The point, though, was that Trouble loved Kakkarot. And Kakkarot loved Trouble, because Trouble more often than not meant that there would be a Big Fight to save the Earth.  
Too bad Kakkarot hadn't been informed as to just how bad this was.  
Damn!  
Vegeta exhaled, and far too loudly. "What?" he demanded upon realizing that everyone was looking at him now. He scowled so ferociously that everyone except his mate and daughter either cringed or very carefully glanced away.  
About two minutes after this, his younger self exploded. "That's it!" he shouted, already turning a nice shade of purplish-red. "This is boring!" So saying, he rummaged for his Wocka pieces, set the board down on the concrete and plopped down cross-legged. He formed a small ki ball in one hand to illuminate the board, then glared at Carrot and snapped, "Sit."  
Carrot, looking as though he was suppressing a smile, obeyed.  
Vegeta rolled his eyes as everyone but the Namek, Kakkarot's eldest, and himself gathered around the board to watch, ask questions, and make stupid exclamations every time something happened on the board. Wocka was an interesting game, true--Vegeta still had his playing pieces, though he hadn't played them since he'd last seen Raditz; he didn't know why he kept them, but he supposed there was some stupid sentiment involved--but not that interesting, and definitely not the game to be so damned loud about. It was a warrior's game, a strategist's learning ground; it was generally accepted that there was no talking while playing it.  
He had long since learned to tune out everything that couldn't possibly be important, though, and within a minute he was gazing straight towards Kakkarot's house, though he couldn't see it. Nor could he feel Kakkarot's ki--but that was normal, considering the great weight of the powers only now settling on Earth. It was no surprise that magic should counteract some of what one could do with ki.  
What was a surprise was that no one seemed to have noticed this but him. He couldn't even feel Gohan's ki, and he was standing less than ten feet away from the Son boy. As a matter of fact, the only person he could sense was Bulma--and it wasn't her ki he was feeling, anyway. The way he felt her had to do with magic, not ki, and in fact she was ever so much clearer in that corner of his mind now than she had been before the events of today.  
What idiots! They don't notice the most important details, and when they do notice they don't get it!  
But of course, they'd always been like that. You had to spell every damned thing--  
Vegeta whirled around. "Get us out of here!" he shouted.  
The Tester blinked rapidly; apparently, he was one of those who couldn't just take Vegeta's word for it.  
With a curse, Vegeta fumbled with the chain around his neck and the stone that dangled from it. His tarekazari. The Stone of the Dragon.  
Or, rather, one of them.

* * *  
Bulma had a very, very bad feeling about whatever had made Vegeta turn pale--visibly pale, when it was already almost dark out. Sure, she couldn==t see anything, but Vegeta had always had abilities that were far beyond hers. And even she could feel the sudden heaviness in the air, the great and sudden weight on her body; that alone told her that something was very wrong.  
A dark sort of light, seeming almost like the opposite of the white that usually surrounded Vegeta's body when he powered up, surrounded his hands and whatever was cupped in them. He shouted something in an tongue that sounded like Saiyago, and Bulma felt the ground beneath her feet--or, rather, didn==t feel it because it wasn't there any more.  
She seemed to remain suspended in the air for about half a minute; then, a sound like thunder, making her ears ring, and she fell into a pit of dark purple and black.  
It took her a moment to realize that everyone else was falling with her, and another moment to realize that she wasn==t really falling--unless you counted falling horizontally. Some force seemed to be pulling her along past those wispy purple and black threads.  
She glanced over her shoulder and saw Vegeta tuck something back into his shirt. He smirked at her; she decided that she was going to strangle him with her bare hands--if she ever got the chance, which was rather unlikely.   
She changed her mind.  
I==ll make him sleep on the couch. For a year.  
Of course, she knew she wouldn==t actually enforce it for a year. A week was the record, and that had been back when she==d been very pregnant with Bra and didn==t need or want him in her bed. But if she told him he==d spend a year on the couch, he==d watch himself; she==d rarely told him even a month, and those times he straightened up instantly, albeit with vague under-his-breath insults not quite aimed at her.  
"What did you--" she began, only to stop when she landed on her own front lawn. More specifically, on her own front lawn in a rather large mud puddle that was the result of asking Carrot to turn the water hose off.  
Now she decided that she was going to banish Vegeta to the couch for a year and then kill him; he could have at least tried to catch her!  
She stood up, trying--and only making it worse by doing so--to wipe the mud off of her nice dress.  
"That was a Gate," Wolvwin supplied, sitting down at his Wocka board; somehow, it had not only come through this >>Gate==, but had come through in exactly the same position it had been in the parking lot. "It==s transportation; a lot of people use it."  
Bulma glared at Vegeta. "I didn==t know you could do that."  
"You don==t know a lot of things about me, woman," Vegeta answered, scowling slightly, "and you assume too much."  
"Why didn==t I know you could do that?" Bulma demanded, ignoring his reply.  
"You didn==t ask."  
"That==s not an excuse!"  
"It==s a reason. You didn==t ask for an excuse," Vegeta pointed out, surprisingly quite reasonably.  
But Bulma was in the mood for battle; she wasn==t going to let her husband, who was usually the one who instigated arguments, to get away with this.  
"Where is this Kakkarot person we==re waiting for?" Wolvwin asked after Bulma==s tirade was over. "So we can get on with this explanation thing."  
"Where is Tousan?" Gohan muttered a minute later. "I can't feel him anywhere--I can't even feel your ki, Vegeta."  
"Of course you can't!" Vegeta exploded, no longer looking even slightly tolerant as he had while Bulma had yelled at him. "Magic overrides ki! You can't sense ki when there's a lot of magic around."  
"Oh." Gohan frowned. "Why?"  
::I wouldn't ask that of the bed-wetting Prince if I were you; he's not likely to know,:: the Black Dragon informed him, light gray smoke trickling out of his right nostril.  
Vegeta's cheeks turned red and he snarled at the Tester.  
::Oh, and you are?:: the Keeper growled, cuffing her brother's ear from where she sat on top of his head.  
::No. But I've never used that kind of magic, not extensively; I have an excuse.::  
"I was three," Wolvwin announced in response to this, his face as red as his older self's. "I was three, and it was Nappa's fault. He decided to see how funny I could be drunk, and then he told me a bedtime story--one that my kaasan would never have told me, and a good thing too; she knew enough not to tell me fairy princess tales. Hmph."  
Bulma grinned, and heard a snort or two from behind other people's hands, those who didn't dare to laugh at Vegeta to his face--or Wolvwin's face, either.  
"Well, if you can't tell where he is, then we'll just have to wait," Bulma said, not at all cheerfully. "Come on, then; let's go inside."  
"Do you have any food, Bulma-san?" Goten asked, perking up at the mere thought of it.  
Vegeta glared at Goten, obviously still fuming over his proposal to Bra; wisely, Goten subdued his enthusiasm.  
Wolvwin muttered something about how he was going to kill Nappa for that someday, and received a sharp glance from Vegeta.  
Carrot muttered something about "Ah. Goku said he wondered why . . .", picked up one of his pieces, and plunked it down.  
It was really amazing how Wolvwin and Carrot were still playing their game; Bulma would have though that they'd put the thing up. She hadn't known that Saiyans were much for games; her Vegeta never had been.  
Then again, she hadn't known Vegeta when he was five. She hadn't even known Goku when he was five.  
Thirty minutes later, all the food in the house was gone, eaten by ravenous demi-Saiyans--Vegeta didn't eat anything; he seemed disturbed about something--and everyone had gotten changed into something besides dress clothes or (in Carrot's case) a hospital gown.  
"Kami, he's taking forever, isn't he?"  
"It's taken you this long to figure that out, woman?" Vegeta snorted.  
Bulma ignored him. "I wonder where he is . . ."  
Vegeta rolled his eyes.  
"What?"  
"Isn't it obvious?" Vegeta asked, crossing his arms and getting that superior look on his face. "Kakkarot got . . . distracted."  
"By what?" Bulma inquired, crossing her arms and giving him the Look. "Son-kun doesn't get distracted at times like this! The Earth is in danger!" Well, this wasn't strictly fact, as no one had actually said the planet was in danger. But it could be assumed that it was.  
"You lose," Wolvwin announced, leaning over the table to snatch Carrot's cards out of his hands. "Was that ever a stupid move."  
Carrot shrugged. "Nice of you to let me know that you could make it; I wouldn't have made my move if I'd known."  
"Exactly!"  
Vegeta shook his head, slowly, and turned back to Bulma. "His wife, and the Earth is not in danger."  
"What--Chi-Chi? What about Chi-Chi?" Bulma narrowed her eyes.  
Vegeta shrugged. "Don't ask me; I don't know the specifics of Kakkarot's sex life."  
Bulma turned red. "That's what you think he's doing? That's ridiculous, Vegeta!"  
"Why? He has one, doesn't he?" Vegeta jabbed his finger at Gohan and Goten, the former who was talking to Piccolo in the corner and the latter who was trying to talk to Bra but was evidently being blown off. "That proves something. I'm sure he's not too stupid to figure out--"  
"VE-GE-TA!" Bulma screeched.  
Vegeta flashed an evil grin at Bulma before going on with his musings on exactly what was keeping Kakkarot. 

* * *  
Before he was done, absolutely everyone except Piccolo, Carrot, and Wolvwin had turned a deep red going on purple. As Piccolo was asexual, he could hardly be embarrassed by something that required a gender to fully understand--and besides, how did a Namek blush? Carrot was looking from Vegeta to Wolvwin to everyone else, and looking very confused. Wolvwin, however, seemed to be enjoying this as much as Vegeta himself was--that is to say, he was laughing. Vegeta had forgotten that he'd known enough about the subject at that age to find it funny; looking at his younger self now, it seemed ridiculous that he had. Wolvwin was just a child! He was younger than Carrot!  
Vegeta didn't quite understand why no one had decided to try to hit him to shut him up; Gohan could have--well, he could hit Vegeta if he wanted; and if he knocked the Prince unconscious, then Vegeta wouldn't say anything more--and he looked like he wanted to enough. Huh. That was what happened when a man let himself be dominated by his mate; she got to raise the children the way she wanted to.  
Just as Vegeta was getting to the really interesting part of his musing, at about the point where Bulma seemed likely to come over and kill him despite the difference in power or cry because he was getting her so angry, Kakkarot and his mate appeared directly in front of Vegeta.  
Vegeta immediately stopped talking; he didn't want Kakkarot's mate to hear any of that; she had a bigger mouth than Bulma, which was saying too much. Besides, if she heard any of that--though that was unlikely; she was asleep, cradled in Kakkarot's arms, her head on his chest--he'd never get to eat her cooking again. Having to get by on what Bulma made most of the time, the Prince was always more than happy to eat Chi-Chi's cooking.  
And who knew? Kakkarot might just take offense. Vegeta didn't have time to fight right now, loath as he was to admit it even to himself.  
"Gomen . . ." Kakkarot said in a low tone, presumably not to awaken his mate. "I'd have gotten here sooner, but the first time I tried, we got stuck in something called a 'Void'. And Chi-Chi got mad at me over it, so I had to wait till she went to sleep . . ."  
It was at that point that Vegeta noticed that Kakkarot's clothing, as well as Chi-Chi's, was distinctly rumpled. He smirked; Kakkarot didn't notice, or if he did, he didn't realize the meaning of the smirk.  
Waitaminute! Vegeta's mind shot back to something Kakkarot had said: a Void? An actual Void, here?  
This was getting very serious, very fast. Damn.  
"Now that Goku's here, you will start explaining," Bulma informed Vegeta, shaking her finger at him. "The Dragons can go next," she said at a noise of disagreement that came from the Tester. "And then Goku can tell us whatever he needs to about this 'Void'. Okay?"

* * *  
I wonder how long it took her to figure out that I know just as much, if not a hell of a lot more, about this situation than the Dragons do. True, they know the specifics--the how of Carrot and my younger self's appearance here, for instance--but I know facts that they most certainly do not.  
"The first to interrupt me dies."  
I don't think that will stop Bulma from asking stupid questions; how many times have I sworn to kill that woman as slowly as possible? How many times has she heeded my threats? I think, perhaps once; I am probably overestimating.  
I am about to go into what Bulma has decided to call "Veggie-storyteller-mode". This silly talent of mine was inherited from my kaasan, and later indulged by her. It was her one fault, that and her soft-heartedness. Not that I mind the ability all that much. Bulma listens to me better when I'm in "storyteller-mode".  
"We Saiyans did not always dwell on Vegetasei."  
No one looks particularly surprised at this. Good; I'm not in the mood for much more idiocy right now.  
"We originated on another planet,"  
The only appropriate word for this is "Duh!" However, if I didn't point that out, I know I'd likely be asked if we came into being in space; Earthlings are that stupid sometimes.  
"We were created for the sole purpose of protecting the weaker inhabitants of that planet; that place had always been a magnet for attempts at destruction, and warriors were needed to defend it and its people."  
Now I see surprise. What, did they think we always traveled planet-to-planet, clearing them for sale? I think they just may have. Bakas, all of them.  
"And so we did, for many centuries, a millenium or two. But then, there came a time when evil passed that planet by. More centuries passed, and the weak people of that planet forgot the good we had done them. The monthly appearance of the moon eventually became an evil omen, for us as well as then.   
"Our transformations were not as they are today, not as difficult to control, or to hide; nevertheless, there was the occasional fool who would hunt us on the full moon. And, even less often, but still too often for comfort, one of those would manage to hit a fatal spot with those ridiculous silver-coated arrows of theirs."  
A light goes off in Bulma's eyes, and I smirk. She has begun to figure it out, though she doesn't have half the clues I plan to give. My mate has always been good at puzzles.  
No one else, save perhaps Bra, who went through a phase--one that even I recall--a few years ago, reading anything and everything ever written about "unicorns", "gryphons", "mermaids", and other such creatures, can seem to do anything but stare at me as if I've lost my mind.  
I am beginning to think that this will be fun.  
I decide to move on a bit; it wouldn't do to have her figure it out too soon.  
Actually, I decide to move on a lot; there's something they need to understand before I say anything more about that period in time.  
"There have always been two factions in Saiyan society, that have nothing whatsoever to do with power level. Since the birth of our species, there have been the espers, who use magic, and the warriors, who don't."  
"And you would be a warrior?" Bulma asks.  
I decide then, as always, to let her live, though she interrupted me when I specifically ordered her not to.  
"Half," I answer.  
"Half?" she repeats, looking very startled.  
"Hai. Half. The people wanted an heir who could control magic as well as ki. My okaasan was an esper; my tousan, naturally, was a warrior as well as the King. What's more, my kaasan was an Adept esper, while my tousan was an Elite-class warrior. I was supposed to grow up to be able to use both powers extremely well, both separately and together."  
I do not note that today is the first time I have used magic since I was seventeen. Nor do I add that I was supposed to be invincible.  
"Oh," she says, still looking somewhat confused; I think that's due to the fact that she's more than likely trying to follow a million or so lines of thought at the same time and getting them mixed up.  
"It was supposed to work, too--and it did, or I wouldn't have been able to do what I did today. There had been an unplanned 'test'--unplanned in that no one had even thought about the implications of a Prince with both lines in his blood by that point--of sorts about twenty years before my birth. What happened was that a third-class warrior and an esper Adept--the espers never had the respect for rank and keeping to their own like the warriors did--mated and produced a child."  
I wonder if I should reveal the identity of that child. I decide there is no harm, though it might make a few heads spin.  
"That child's name was Raditz." When no one seems to have heard that, I repeat, "Raditz. Your older brother." I point at Kakkarot.  
Still, no response.  
I doubt that anyone took my threat of death seriously, because no one's ever been quite wise enough to do so; I'll continue now. They'd better not come back later and ask me to clarify that, because I won't; and, depending on the person, I just might use them as a punching bag.  
"As a matter of fact, they knew it would work, that Raditz was more than a fluke, because Raditz's parents had another child with both abilities; his name was Turles."  
I remember Turles, vaguely. He looked exactly like Kakkarot, except that his skin was a few shades darker. He acted a lot like Kakkarot, too. He was smarter than his brother; he never got in my way. Then again, he was never my bodyguard, and even they sometimes had doubts about tagging along with me. It wasn't until Nappa and Raditz that I got guards who could actually do their jobs. Kami alone can imagine how thrilled I was about that.  
"Tur--Turles?" Kakkarot stammers. I glare death at him; it affects him as it always does, which is not at all.  
"Turles," I confirm. "Why? Do you know him or something?" I sneer at this; there is no possible way Kakkarot could know Turles. Raditz would have known if Turles had ever landed on Earth--a brotherly-bond sort of thing, I think--and anyway, Raditz always said that Turles was dead.  
"No . . ." Kakkarot murmurs. "It's just that I had this dream . . ."  
Hell no! I don't want to hear about Kakkarot's dreams!  
I say this out loud, with a very great amount of sarcasm that even Kakkarot can't miss. Bulma glares at me; I can see she's very close to informing me that I'll be sleeping on the couch.   
I decide that now is the time to go back in time, to the point where I left off before.  
"These two groups, the espers and the warriors, argued about whether or not to leave the planet. The espers argued that they should; why stay and be persecuted any longer? The warriors disagreed, saying that it would be cowardly to flee.  
"Eventually, the espers won that argument; all they had to have to do so was patience.  
"But even though the warriors finally consented, there was someone--quite a few someones--who didn't. They were called Happits, and had been the Saiyans' companions since perhaps two centuries after the Saiyans were created.  
"The Happits protested, almost violently."  
I glance over at Carrot's Happit, stretched lengthwise on his lap, her head on his knee as she looks at me. She says nothing to me; I feel obliged to do the same.  
"But eventually, they quieted down.  
"Most of them did, anyway.  
"Some didn't. They had access to such powers hidden in that planet, they said, that they would be fools to leave.  
"But they didn't want us to leave either.  
"And if we wouldn't stay and they couldn't have us leaving, they would just kill us. It was at the moment the first Happit decided this, and every time another Happit was persuaded to that side, that The Nameless came to be. When a Happit becomes nameless, he looses his individual form as well as his name."  
Carrot's Happit shudders, and then seems to wince as everyone, as if following a script, turns their heads to look at her.  
"We could not destroy them, not then; we didn't have the power they did, nor quite the will to use it. After all, wielding power like that could quite possibly destroy the species we had been born to protect, and that was not right even if they did fear and despise us. Our Adept espers just barely managed to hold them back as we left the planet.  
"As we left, they somehow contacted us, and swore to kill us should we ever return to that planet and once again revert to our old roles and protect the people there.  
"And now we have. They don't like it. They think Chikyuu is their own."  
I open my eyes--which had somehow become tightly shut--and check everyone's face.  
There is no one who is looking at me as if I've lost my mind; that much is good. But the looks on their faces would leave me to wonder just how much of this they absorbed.  
"So . . . the Saiyans used to be . . ." Bulma mutters.  
"Werewolves," I supply. "We only technically became Saiyans when we encountered the Dragons; the Tester gave us tails and the ability to transform--both transformations, Oozaru and Super Saiyan, originated with him."  
I glance at the Dragons, and it takes me a moment to recognize the looks in their eyes: they hadn't known where Saiyans came from either! Nor had they known about The Nameless's origins . . .   
And why should they know? My ancestors wouldn't have told them. My ancestors told nobody. There is a reason I know what happened, but no one actually came out and told me like I==m telling them now.  
"And why," Bulma growls, "did it take you this long to say anything about it?"  
That question can be answered with a single phrase I seem to be using quite often now: "You didn==t ask."  
Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. I think she==s going to turn purple. Again. Stupid woman; she==s really going to mess up her vocal cords one of these days . . .

* * *  
"Now, what was this you said about a Void?" Vegeta asked Goku. "Yes, I know, woman!" He snapped just as Bulma opened her mouth. "But the Dragons will have to wait! This is much more important than that!"  
Goku told Vegeta exactly what had happened, leaving out the part about Shorty and the message; he wasn't sure, but he didn't think that G. wanted him to go around blurting out the message.  
After he was done, he saw that Vegeta was looking at him very intently. "Is that all G. said?" he asked.  
"No . . . he also gave me a message for someone named Shorty," Goku shrugged. "I don't know anyone named Shorty, though . . ."  
"Yes you do," Vegeta contradicted, scowling severely though not directly at Goku.  
"I do?" Goku thought about it. He didn't know anyone named Shorty . . . He was sure he didn't . . .   
Vegeta sighed. "I'm Shorty. G. calls me that; he thinks it's funny." The tone of Vegeta's voice told Goku just how funny Vegeta thought it was.  
"Oh, okay." Goku nodded.  
"The message?" Vegeta snapped.  
"Oh, yeah . . ." Goku repeated it for Vegeta.  
Vegeta nodded, as if this was entirely expected. And then he did something that no one could have expected; he grinned. That only lasted for a few seconds, but that was long enough for even Goku to notice it. And then he frowned, scowled, and half-grinned again, crossed his arms, uncrossed them, and basically fidgeted. Goku wished he could see Vegeta's thoughts right then, because they really must have been something.  
And then, Vegeta turned to the Dragons. "Your turn," he said curtly.

* * *  
Tshala looked up from where she was half-snoozing between her brother's ears. ::About time,:: she said, amused. She stretched her body across her brother's snout until her head was parallel to his nostrils, then sat up straight. ::I shall begin, Oh Brother Mine.::  
She did not say why she would be the one to speak, for now; Ocram knew how she felt about his behavior; she had already spent nearly twenty minutes today chastising and lecturing him, both in private thoughts and where anyone could hear.  
::Well, it starts at the point when Ocram, for some reason he hasn't found the time to fully explain to me yet, went back in time, to bring Carrot here.  
::Now, I shall assume you wish to know how he went about doing that, since we Dragons are not allowed to change the past and muss up the timelines.::  
She knew that this was news to them; since Mirai Trunks, they wouldn't have been in the least bit surprised to learn of this. She studied them for a moment, decided that they did, indeed, wish to know why, and went about explaining.  
::If we are not allowed to alter the past, we are allowed to borrow elements of it, as long as we replace those elements with exact duplicates. By exact, I do mean exact, down to every atom.::  
She wondered how long it would take for Vegeta to realize the implications of this. She suspected he would throw a fit once it occurred to him.   
All the same, she hoped he'd get it soon.  
::And so, he did that, in order to give you Carrot. He went back in time, to one of the moments directly after you sent Carrot on his way, took him, and left that Kakkarot--:: her she inclined her head towards Goku, ::--in his place. Thus, you have someone who should not have been possible, and Kakkarot--or Goku, as he is called here--was not altered in any form.::  
::And the same seems to have happened for the bed-wetting Prince, though it wasn't of my doing,:: Ocram chimed in. ::I suspect one of the other Dragons had a hand in that; at first, I thought that The Nameless might have, but I didn't know they were Happits, then. Happits could never possibly manage such a thing, even with the magic forces on Earth to help.::  
Besides the continuation of the "bed-wetting" title, Ocram didn't seem to have said anything offensive. Tshala sighed in great relief at this, but told him privately that he'd better let her finish. To her surprise, he agreed.  
::And so, Carrot and Wolvwin are here.  
::Now we must speak of The Nameless.  
::I do not know much of them, but this: they cannot be defeated by any power you have, despite the fact that you--:: here she indicated Vegeta, and then Goku, ::--and you are half esper. You are too old--I'm sorry to say it, but it does happen to be true--and too set in your styles of fighting to switch from ki to magic well enough to be able to handle this. And your children, though they might have a better chance, are only one-fourth esper. I will not even speak of you, child,:: she nodded to Pan, ::for an eighth is nothing.::  
Pan looked very indignant at this, and also seemed as if she were about to break out in protest. But her father shook his head, and she visibly tried to calm down.  
::But those two, Carrot and Wolvwin--they could have a chance to learn of magic.  
::So I'd suggest you teach them all that you can, Vegeta, until the time when the battle must come.::  
Vegeta closed his eyes and nodded solemnly.  
::But you'll need help. Even full-blooded espers rarely have enough talent as far as magic goes to summon it without some sort of help. You have your Stone to help you, and they will need the same. Fortunately, I have several stored away, that used to belong to espers not farsighted enough to see that they should be bequeathed to someone. Not every esper was like your kaasan, thinking that their children might need it after their parent's passing.::  
Having said this, Tshala opened a quick Gate, said a word of summons, and waited for the Stones to be carried by magic current through the Gate.  
She was more than surprised when not two, but four Stones hurtled out of the Gate and into her brother's waiting claw. ::That is odd.::  
::Hai.:: Ocram held the stones up by their chains, and they gleamed even inside and away from moonlight and starlight alike. He shrugged, pulled two of the Stones away from their companions, and tossed them to Carrot and Wolvwin, while handing the other two to Tshala.  
She weighed them in her claws for a long while, eyes closed, muttering an incantation under her breath. When she finished, she threw them into the air; one fell at Carrot's feet, and one at Wolvwin's.  
::That settles it.:: she said with satisfaction. ::These Stones has decided that they have Masters--but their Masters do not reside on this plane. I can even tell you who one of them is. You will find this person's identity interesting, Vegeta.::  
"Who is it?" Vegeta demanded.  
::Trunks. And not the one that stands there.::  
"And who's the other one?" Vegeta requested, and anyone who didn't know how to read him would have thought that he didn't care.  
::I am not sure yet. I shall have to ask Benaa; she's about to use a freebie, and her most important one; she's going to resurrect someone.::

* * *  
It took hours, but eventually everyone who didn't happen to reside at Capsule Corp. went home--well, almost everyone.  
"GO--"  
"If you really mean what you said--"  
"AWAY--"  
"Then I want immortality too--"  
"GOTEN--"  
"So that I can come with you--"  
"I'M WARNING YOU--"  
"But there's just one condition--"  
"GOTEN--"  
"I get my own space pod--"  
"YOU ARE--"  
"Because we wouldn't want to be squished--"  
"SUCH A BASTARD!"  
"And I'm not going to let you say no! I don't care if your tousan kills me!"  
"WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO DAMNED SWEET?!"  
"'Cause that's just the way I am. Will you marry me? Say yes this time, okay?"  
"FINE!"  
Thus did the daughter of Vegeta and Goku's second son become engaged.  
It was decided that Wolvwin would also stay at Capsule Corp, despite Vegeta's misgivings; for one thing, Vegeta was supposed to teach him about magic, so staying under the same roof was a good thing. And for another, he'd sleep on the couch for the rest of his natural life if he didn't like it.

* * *  
"Are you sure he's the one you want, Benaa-sama?"  
"Hai. Sensei, he'll do just fine in life again. Besides, he's the only one who could really help, anyway."  
"If you're certain . . ."  
"I am. Besides, you can't hide it; you absolutely thrilled that I want to bring your son back."  
"I just want to make sure that you know what you're doing--"  
"I have never been incompetent, sensei."  
"I know."

* * *  
"If your kid wins again, I'll kill him."  
"All right."  
"I'll beat him to a bloody pulp first, then boil him slowly and listen to him die screaming."  
"Okay, Toma. Whatever you say . . . But you know he's already dead, right?"  
Raditz allowed a small smile to escape his poker face as he drew a card from his deck and moved two of his pieces.  
"Sure, Bardock. And your point is?"  
Toma pretended to frown down at the board and moved several of his pieces without bothering to draw a card.  
Raditz smirked, moved a final piece, and showed his cards. "I win; you lose," he announced in Saiyago, the traditional way the game was supposed to end when someone won this way.  
Toma did something that was also tradition, for the losing side; he bowled the board over and attacked. Raditz would have been hard put to defend himself if he'd wanted to bother, but he liked to vary his routine a bit. He'd played Toma every day for the last--well, however long he'd been dead--and he almost always won. It was very boring to have to defend himself when there was no way in Hell--literally--he could get to be a better fighter while dead. It just wasn't something those in Hell could do.  
So instead, he was fully willing to let Toma beat him up, because it was nothing personal anyway. Toma had been beating on him since he'd been just a child for winning, and until he'd died this routine had much helped his strength and agility. But now . . .  
Well, there was no point.  
At least, there was no point until Toma kicked him in the gut and he felt pain.  
Well, of course he was supposed to feel pain--but not like this. This pain wasn't the watered-down stuff that came with the afterlife; this was real, true pain.  
Raditz didn't try to rationalize this, or figure out the meaning for it, or do anything but curse loudly and violently while bent around his stomach trying to ease the pain.  
"Are you all right?" Toma asked, sounding halfway concerned and halfway suspicious, like he thought that it was a ruse. "Raditz?  
"Bardock!" Toma shouted. "Something's wrong with Raditz!"  
"Nothing's wrong with him."  
"You sure about that? He looks like he's hurt to me," Toma said doubtfully.  
"He's not hurt. Not that badly. Just alive, that's all."  
"Just--" Toma's voice faltered. "--Alive? He can't be alive, Bardock! That's not possible."  
"Dead people have halos. He doesn't." Raditz's tousan pointed out.  
Right about now, the pain started to subside, and the color spots in front of Raditz's eyes faded as well. And since he was able to control his limbs now, he reached up oh-so-cautiously to feel for the halo that had been there for over forty years now.  
It wasn't there.  
Raditz was alive.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Wolvwin rolled a six and landed on Boardwalk. He stared at the red hotel Carrot had somehow scraped up the money to buy, glanced at all of his mortgaged properties, and looked down at the one-hundred seventy-nine dollars he had left.  
He had the feeling that he had just lost. Carrot wasn't about to let him "borrow" money from the Bank again to keep going, he was sure of that.  
He glanced over at Carrot, who looked more than smug at having finally beaten him at something. They'd tried Chess, Checkers, Chinese Checkers, Sorry!, Trouble, tic-tac-toe, The Game of Life, Stratego, and Risk; they had even tried just sparring. The only thing they hadn't tried was Scrabble, but that was because Wolvwin couldn't read the language and Carrot couldn't read it well. Wolvwin had won every game until now; he'd always been amazingly good at games.  
But apparently Carrot was much better with money than Wolvwin was. Also, he hadn't kept on landing in jail and getting horrid Chance cards. Therefore, he had won--unless of course he let Wolvwin borrow more money from the Bank. But even if he did, Wolvwin owed upwards of ten thousand dollars to the Bank anyway, and would never pay that off in time to win.  
"Hmph," Wolvwin snorted. "You win, I guess."  
Wolvwin had never been a good loser, though he had the good winner part down pretty well--if you overlooked the slight gloating he always did having won.  
He stood up and stalked out of the room, and slammed into Vegeta. This, surprisingly, yielded no death threats from his older self; instead, Vegeta only glared and said, "Be more careful, Rodent; watch where you're going. That'll get you killed one day, by someone not quite as forgiving as me."  
Forgiving? Vegeta? Wolvwin hadn't been in this place for a week, and already he knew that >>forgiving' shouldn't even be counted in Vegeta's description. Vegeta's description went more like so: Very short, easily irritated Saiyan with a tendency to try to kill anyone who annoys him, can only be controlled by his wife, daughter, and Goku, and as a general rule passionately hates anything that shatters his routine in a way that can't be solved through someone else's bloodshed. At least, that was the way Wolvwin would describe his cranky older self; and he was fairly accurate in that, because that was the way Vegeta was most of the time.  
Oh well. He should be happy to have his feet on the ground, rather than dangling because Vegeta had shoved him against the wall and was busy threatening him. He should stop analyzing Vegeta. Now.  
But he couldn't help it.  
"What are you distracted about?" he asked, following on Vegeta's heels.  
"What makes you think I'm distracted?" Vegeta muttered, staring down at his hand.  
Wolvwin strained his eyes and saw the delicate golden chain that had slipped between Vegeta's fingers, and the ever-so-slight blackish glow around the Saiyan's hands. The older Prince was concentrating on his tarekazari; probably, he was working on >>Finding'--Wolvwin wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but it sounded both familiar and important--G. Whoever and whatever G. was.  
Wolvwin reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out his own Stone, concentrating and trying to get it to glow like Vegeta's was. He hadn't quite managed that yet; Vegeta had told them that they couldn't learn until they could Call the magic up. Wolvwin knew what Vegeta meant by that--his kaasan had given him lessons on magic, even if she had never actually had him apply the lessons to real life--but he just couldn't manage it. This irked him like nothing else, a feeling that was only a little bit watered down from Vegeta's annoyance that Goku was stronger than him. Watered down in that Wolvwin didn't wish to half kill himself in order to remedy the situation, and in fact would much rather forget about it by playing games.  
"You're distracted all right," Wolvwin announced. "You and I both know it."  
"Yeah, and I know it too!" Carrot spoke up from behind Wolvwin. "It's easy to tell--you didn't get seconds this morning. That means you're either sick--"  
Wolvwin snorted. He had heard Vegeta's scornful response to his mate's inquiring whether he was sick: according to him, Saiyans didn't get sick. Wolvwin knew that this wasn't entirely true; but what likely was true was that off of Vegetasei, there were perhaps two diseases that could effect a full-blooded Saiyan. And the chance that one of them was on Chikyuu, out of all the planets there were--ridiculous!  
"--Or depressed--"  
Another snort, this time from Vegeta. Wolvwin had the feeling that he didn't get depressed either.  
"--Or distracted," Carrot finished, catching up so that he was abreast of Wolvwin. He shrugged. "It's not that difficult to figure out, Tousan; you're easy to read."  
Wolvwin would have disagreed, but he supposed Carrot had the right to claim that; he had lived with Wolvwin's older self a lot longer than the two days Wolvwin had, surely he was more familiar with Vegeta's moods.  
"You're a sore loser, by the way," Carrot informed Vegeta. "Were then, and now." He scowled slightly at Wolvwin.  
"Am I?" Vegeta murmured, having stopped paying attention to the two.  
Wolvwin was rather surprised, actually, that Vegeta could ignore him without consciously deciding to; he wondered if this meant he was being accepted?  
He hoped it didn't. He wasn't going to stay here; he was going to leave just as soon as The Nameless were defeated or driven away. True, that wasn't very pressing to him at the moment, to defeat Them and get away, but it was also true that that was what he would do. He had no wish to stay here, at this Capsule Corp. place; it was too different. Nothing at all like Home--but he couldn't go there when he left. It was gone.  
Where could he go?  
Wolvwin frowned. He would have to think of something, obviously, or he would be stuck here forever--and that was not something that appealed to him. Maybe Vegeta didn't mind, but Wolvwin did--this was no place that a Saiyan Prince should have to live!  
Particularly not this Saiyan Pri--  
"Ah-ha!" Vegeta crowed, and he whirled around and flew off, bowling both Carrot and Wolvwin over in his haste.  
"What," Wolvwin said as Carrot helped him up (Carrot, apparently, was used to being bowled over as if he were nothing but a third-class Saiyan--which, of course, he was and Wolvwin wasn't.), "happened?"  
"I think Tousan's whatchamacallit found whatever he was looking for." Carrot shrugged, "Or he found out whatever it was he needed to know. Or something like that. I dunno."  
"You don't know anything, do you?" Wolvwin sneered. He wasn't trying to start a fight; he'd already discovered that Carrot was very weak and therefore very boring.  
"I know that you have an attitude problem," Carrot said huffily. "But I also know that Lady seems to like you; don't ask me why, because she can't tell me. And I probably wouldn't agree with her if she could."  
Wolvwin looked at Carrot askance. Before now, the older boy hadn't shown one sign of really being angry--or even annoyed--with Wolvwin.  
But Wolvwin knew exactly how annoying he had been for the last several days, and had known that Carrot probably wouldn't take it for much longer; no Saiyan would. He'd been hoping he'd get a good fight out of it when Carrot finally blew. And even though Carrot hadn't shown himself to be very strong in their one sparring session, Wolvwin knew that anger above all increased one's fighting abilities. He was interested in seeing what would happen, if Carrot lost control and attacked him.  
"Like I said, you don't know anything," Wolvwin answered, sneering. "Except how to play Monopoly."  
Carrot rolled his eyes.  
Wolvwin sneered some more.  
And then, by mutual and unspoken agreement, they went to the kitchen for a snack, and their argument was forgotten as if it had never been.  
They weren't fated to be enemies, these two; they knew it, too. And, being children, and young, and stubborn in quite a different way from adults, they didn't fight that knowing nor even deny it.  
This is how most Saiyan friendships are formed, though this was a special case: rarely did the Elites associate with those born third-class. But then, Carrot and Wolvwin were also very special.

* * *  
He was alive.  
And he didn't have any idea what he was going to do now that he was.  
Furthermore, he hadn't the slightest idea where the Kami-damned exit was, which was what he was trying to find now. But no one else seemed to know where it was either; apparently, though everyone wanted out, no one quite knew how to get there.  
Raditz scowled, and his tail lashed behind him furiously.  
Was there anyone who might know the exit that he hadn't asked yet? He didn't think so.  
Unless . . .   
No. Absolutely not. He would never, ever, ask that arrogant bastard to help him again. The last time, he'd had to get down on his knees and beg before Rinew would even consider it. Down. On. His. Kami-damned. Knees. Begging.  
He would not! There was a better way . . . there had to be a better way . . .  
Which was why he didn't quite understand it when he stopped looking for the exit and started looking for Vegeta Rinew, who would know where it was, and who, more likely than not, would not be willing to offer assistance.  
How, how, how did he get into situations like this?

* * *  
"Where--" Vegeta muttered as he landed, not finishing his statement nor needing to; he was thinking out loud, and thoughts are not too often complete. "Ah-ha!"  
So saying, he crouched low to the ground, stuck his Stone in his pocket, and glanced around, looking for something that had to be here because his tarekazari never made his fingers tingle quite like that unless he'd found one of G.'s clues.  
His quick eyes soon found a small, greenish pebble right beside his left foot. He picked it up, and felt as though he'd just picked up a hot coal.  
He almost dropped it, but only just remembered that if he did it would be gone and he'd have to find it at a later date before he could find its companions. So instead of opening his hand to let it loose, he closed his fist up tight and waited for it to cool. Once it had, he opened his fist and stared down at it in his palm.  
It had changed shape to become a perfect, though tiny, replica of a Dragon's head, with its ears laid back and teeth bared. It looked as though it was about to jump out of his hand and eat him.  
Then he realized that there was a real possibility that it could if he kept thinking about it, and, using the discipline he'd learned long ago, banished the thought from his mind.  
One down, six to go. And this one was the warm-up, just to see if he still had the touch.  
He did, he'd just proved it, and now the Game had begun.  
Vegeta took his tarekazari out of his pocket, connected it and the pebble by a magic cord--such little stones were so easy to drop--and levitated off the ground to return to the place where he could concentrate on this problem the best. Home.

* * *  
"Whatever it is you want, the answer is no now, has always been no, and always will be no. No, no, no, no, no. Does that cover all of your questions, or should I add some more negations?"  
Raditz grimaced and resisted the urge to inform the King of how bitchy that sounded; he didn't think Rinew would take that well. He'd always been cranky, especially since his mate died, and now that he was dead . . . well, he was worse than ever, if that was possible. By far worse than his son, though Raditz was probably biased in that.  
"Rinew . . ." he began, only to receive that cold glare that was the King's and the King's alone; even the Prince had never quite managed that. "Erm . . . Vegeta-sama, I meant . . ."  
"No." the King repeated. "Absolutely not. I don't care what you need; I told you the last time that it was the last time. And I only helped you then so that Benaa wouldn't give me Hell for it."  
"A lot of good that did you," Raditz muttered under his breath.  
Rinew gave him a sharp look. "What was that?" he demanded.  
"A damned lot of good that did you!" Raditz shouted, very, very glad that there was no one else around; he could get away with this kind of thing in private, but if he'd said that in anyone else's presence he'd have died again. "And a damned lot of good it did me!"  
"You," Rinew snarled, "had better be glad you're already dead."  
The King had just given Raditz his only warning. Rinew was not so stupid as to neglect to notice the disappearance of Raditz's halo, nor too dense to understand what that meant. Nor too fair not to take advantage of this new development.  
"And," he continued, "If it did you so much good, why are you over here bothering me?"  
Because it was sarcasm, and you know it, Raditz thought, gritting his teeth. "I need to know where the exit is. Out of Hell," he said, finally getting to the point--something he would have done minutes ago, except that Rinew had interrupted him the moment he uttered his first syllable.  
"Good luck." The King waved his hand, indicating that Raditz should leave. "I don't envy you the search. The life, maybe--the search, no."  
Raditz, however, had never left at the specific point when the King really wanted him to, and he wasn't about to change habit just because he hadn't seen the Saiyan for who-knew-how-many years and was alive again while Rinew was dead. This basically meant that it would be easier than ever for the monarch to kill him. He doubted Rinew would ever get annoyed enough with him to do that, though, which was the reason he felt that he could be so bold.  
"I'm not leaving until you tell me where the Kami-damned exit is."  
"Then I'll just have to kill you."  
"Hai. And get worse Hell when you meet up with Benaa again; she's always liked me, you know; if she knew I was alive again and you killed me . . . and you're sure to meet her again sometime; eternity is a long, long time--she's very likely to drop in sometime."  
Rinew's face twisted up just the slightest bit, and Raditz knew he had hit the King's one nerve. He smirked, and his tail unfurled itself from around his waist to swish at the air behind him.  
"You know where the exit is, and I need you to tell me," Raditz repeated.  
"What makes you think I even know where it is?" Rinew demanded in a tone that made it very clear that he knew exactly where it was.  
"You know where everything is," Raditz pointed out. "You always have; you make a point of it, Vegeta-sama. At least, when you were alive you did. I refuse to think that you've changed that much."  
"Good point," the King admitted, "but that doesn't mean I'm going to--"  
"And why not? Other than that you hate me?"  
"Do I need a better reason?"  
They went on sniping at each other like this for quite a while, getting nowhere and just generally becoming more and more annoyed with each other by the second. But eventually, Raditz won, because he always had. Except once. And that once was the very reason he always won now.  
"Fine; I'll tell you, then you leave."  
And then he did. It took him a while to convince Raditz that he was telling the truth, though.

* * *  
Something was bothering Bra about this entire deal. Something to do with The Nameless, something she hadn't had the time to think about since the other day because Goten hadn't left her alone since then. She couldn't really blame him for that, because once she'd given in and stopped acting cold towards him, they'd really had some fun. But still . . . something had been bothering her, and she needed to figure out what it was.  
Bra frowned and closed the refrigerator, having come to the conclusion that all of the eating she'd done since Goten had left was not helping. That was sort of odd--eating always made her feel better, must be something in the genes--and she'd decided that something was really bothering her.  
"I'm not going to feed you," she said, having noticed the look on the resident Happit's face. "Get Brussels Sprouts to do it; I do not have the time."   
Lady nodded in agreement and left the room at a trot; she really was cute doing that, her stumpy tail wagging and her little legs moving frantically to keep up the pace. She seemed to have recuperated; she'd barely been able to walk yesterday. She was really a frail little thing; Bra wondered how she was supposed to go about "protecting" Carrot.  
"We're supposed to be afraid of that?" Bra shook her head. "Tousan, have you gone over the edge?"  
Vegeta looked up from where he was peering down at the Stone in his hand. "What?"  
"Never mind." She knew the answer.  
Bra sighed and exited the kitchen. As she headed towards her room, her mind ran over all the reasons she should be more than mildly worried about this business with The Nameless: she came up with exactly zero.  
Little winged puppies from Hell couldn't be that scary. Both sides of Bra, human and Saiyan, refused to come anywhere close to being frightened of them.  
But something deeper was scared of them, for some reason Bra could not come up with.  
She slammed her bedroom door and stood in front of her mirror, trying to think, to remember the reason she felt so--  
Remember the reason? There was something to remember?  
Her mind caught that, and held onto it as she peered into her own eyes and saw the answer.  
She reeled back. "My Kami . . ."  
She wondered how she had managed not to remember that, not have nightmares for eleven years straight. "No . . ."  
The Nameless were . . .  
Shadows?  
Now Shadows were frightening, even if she wasn't six years old anymore. Even though that Trunks and Kaasan and Tousan were fine, everything was set right, he was back to wherever he'd been before he'd helped . . .  
She remembered, now.  
Shadows could kill you, and then tear your very soul apart . . . so that you didn't exist, even in the place between Heaven and Hell . . .  
"No!" she repeated, her fingernails ripping into her palms, blood dripping to the carpet. Something long forgotten flickered in her eyes, turned them to turquoise, flickered back. Her hair stiffened, began to rise off of her neck and back, then relaxed and fell again. And when it fell, it fell back to purple, not the blue that it had been for years now. Bra took a moment to be surprised at the rich lavender color even deeper than Trunks' hair, then nodded curtly.   
Her mind was already rushing through the choices she had now, most of which were quite undesirable. She didn't have time to lament over hair dye that she had invented on a whim several years back to keep her hair blue without having to reinforce the color. As a matter of fact, she rather liked having this shade of color in her hair, and would more likely than not keep it.  
She took only a few moments to decide.  
First, a few changes needed to be made. Then she needed to talk to someone, and together they would try to figure this out.  
She took scissors to her hair, cutting it so that it barely touched her shoulders. Then she dressed in jeans, a tight black shirt that let her move freely enough for fighting, and a black leather jacket that gave her a "dangerous" look; to complete said look, she donned a pair of sunglasses and found the capsule in which her motorcycle resided. She had to travel through a residential area, and there was no reason to call any attention to herself as a "flying freak." (She did not need to be arrested--or have the police attempt to arrest her--for half killing anyone who looked at her sideways while she flew; therefore, she'd take her bike.)

* * *  
This is not going to work, Raditz thought skeptically, glaring at the most definitely solid cliff wall, Rinew's just trying to make me look stupid. Well, it's not going to work; I'm going to go back and tell him so--  
And get my butt kicked? No thanks.  
He glared at the wall further, as if by glaring he could see whether Rinew had told the truth or not.  
Fine. I'll try it. And then I'll go be even more insubordinate and then get killed. Again.  
He said, "I'm a damned fool," and bowed to the wall, obeying Rinew's instructions to the letter.  
And was absolutely amazed when a great piece of the wall disappeared, leaving a shadowed doorway in its place.  
I'll be damned . . . it worked!  
Raditz entered. The cliff wall reappeared behind him; he didn't even notice, or care. He walked down the dark corridor slowly, nervously glancing from side to side, wondering who and what these "Guardians" that he would have to get by were.  
And then, since he was looking from side to side rather than where he was going, he ran right into one.  
He fell back and fell on his rear with a thud. He looked up to see what appeared to be several gigantic birds glaring down at him. He gulped and stood up, noting that he was going to be very sore in the morning.  
"Who arrre you?" the first bird, the one he had bumped into and the one with the red feathers, demanded with a slight lisp. "And what do you want? To get out of Hell?"  
"They all want that, friend," the other bird, with golden colored feathers, announced, looking down its beak with angry yellow eyes. "But this one's alive."  
"But still damned," the other bird countered.  
"True," the golden bird conceded.  
Then the light shifted, and Raditz saw that these weren't birds, but Gryphons; what bird ever had a cat's backside? Damn it; he'd heard of Gryphons before. According to Benaa's stories (She had stories about everything, and swore to the gods that they were all true; as all the ones Raditz had had the chance to disprove were true, he had no reason to doubt her.), Gryphons were bad-tempered and sarcastic, smart and powerful, and malicious enough to be all four in order to be cruel.  
"Can you help me get out, or are you going to talk about it all day?" Raditz asked, getting straight to the point.  
"The Powers That Be stationed us here so that no one gets out, Saiyan," the red-feathered Gryphon said.  
"Yes," agreed the other one, "They don't want the damned, even the suddenly living damned, to get out."  
"You see," the red-feathered Gryphon went on, "There was this one Saiyan, he died twice. He was supposed to go to Hell each time, but somehow the bastard managed to get wished back to life both times."  
"And now," the golden-feathered Gryphon interceded, "He's not going to come here. We've decided that that is the reason The Powers That Be assigned us here; he pissed them off."  
"Yes. We don't like it, but . . ."  
"Well, disagreeing with The Powers That Be is a mistake."  
"So leave, Saiyan."  
"Unless you have someone living to vouch for you, here, to us, someone who will take the time to come save you."  
"You're stuck."  
"And you can't argue."  
"Not like you did when you got here; we'll kill you."  
"And you'll be dead."  
"Again."  
"And be damned."  
"Again."  
Raditz stared.  
Having no good response to this, he stomped back the way he had come.  
He was going to have a few words with Rinew. Sure, they were a few words that would more than likely get him half-killed, but he didn't care right now.  
Rinew had to have known this little detail. Had to.

* * *  
It had taken Bra a while to find Goten. After several hours, she'd by chance come close enough to feel his ki. She'd followed it, and found him by an out-of-the-way waterfall they both had favorable memories of, leaning against a tree. He'd been sleeping, and if she judged the words he'd been muttering correctly, he'd been dreaming about her. She intended to find out just what sort of dreams they had been; they'd sounded way too interesting for her to let them go.  
She went on talking until she'd finished her story, then looked back over at him to see his reaction. He was looking at her with some concern, the curiosity that had before been in his face regarding her hair and wardrobe now gone.  
"You're all right, though?" he asked, as if forgetting that what she spoke of had happened years ago.  
"Hai. I'm fine, Goten-kun. Still a little shaken up from remembering it all, but fine."  
He nodded, though his eyes were still worried.  
And then his eyes flickered and he looked a bit skeptical. "You can really . . ."  
"Hai."  
"Really?"  
"Hai."  
"Prove it," he demanded, sitting up and then standing, glaring at her slightly with crossed arms.  
"Huh?"  
"D'fend yourself!" So saying, Goten jumped forward and aimed his fist directly at her cheek.  
Bra stepped to the side, her eyes changing color and her hair rising again. Goten's eyes flickered to the same shade as hers, and his hair, already spiked, only heightened a little as it changed from black to gold.  
"You can!" Goten yelped. "Cool!"  
Bra zanzokened behind Goten, to mock-cheerfully knock him down and kick him in the stomach--hard--before answered. "Hai. Cool. Now, can we talk about something else? Preferably the damned bad guys?"  
"Sure," Goten groaned. "Whatever you say, Bra-chan." With this, his hair changed back to its normal black and he sat up. "Which bad guys? The Shadows you're talking about or The Nameless?"  
"Didn't a word of what I just said sink in?" Bra demanded, growling as her hair fell and her eyes lightened to blue. "They're the same thing!"  
"They are?" Goten thought about this for a moment. "Oh . . . that's right . . ."  
"Uh-huh." Bra sighed and threw herself onto the ground. Leaning against the nearest tree, she said, "I need something to take my mind off all of this."  
"Like what?" Goten asked, raising an eyebrow.  
Bra opened her eyes. "Are you that stupid, Goten?"  
"No. I just don't want your Tousan to kill me."  
"I thought you didn't care about that?"  
"That was when I was proposing."  
Bra laughed and folded her arms across her chest. "Goten: you say something when you're proposing, you mean it for the rest of your life, until I leave you at the altar, or until I hand you divorce papers."  
Goten looked decidedly worried at this. "You wouldn't . . ."  
"No."  
She thought she heard him say "Thank Kami" under his breath.  
"Which means that you're not scared of my Tousan."  
"Yes. I am."  
Bra made a guttural sort of "Grrrrrrr" sound deep in her throat; Goten looked very apologetic as he sat down beside her.  
"There are some things Tousan wouldn't kill you for; put you in comatose, sure. Kill, no."  
There was a long pause here as Goten stared at her.  
"What?" she demanded, having a good idea of what was coming.  
"Um, what's comatose?"  
"Goten: strong like bull, dumb like ox. Hitch to plow when horse dies . . ." she said in a joking manner, snuggling up to him. He obligingly put an arm around her, though his face was still twisted up in confusion.  
"Huh?"  
"Translate that to mean 'kiss me, baka'," Bra said quite severely.  
"But you didn't tell me what comatose means yet . . ."  
"Beautiful woman. You. Much physical attraction. Very close. Alone. And you're not going to kiss her?"  
Goten came up with a very good answer, proving that he was smarter in some areas than in most: he kissed her, said something along the lines of "only if her name is Bra and she has purple hair," and kissed her again.  
She took that to mean that he liked her new hair color, and kissed him back. Even though he could have come up with several more specific ways to describe her, she wasn't going to nitpick about it; this was Goten, after all.

* * *  
"So you're back. I take this to mean you found the Gryphons?" Vegeta Rinew inquired with the smirk that seemed to be patented among his family members.  
"Why didn't you tell me I can't leave?" Raditz demanded, his tail lashing behind him fiercely.  
"Would you have listened?"  
That was a very good point. Rinew always seemed to be able to magically come up with those.  
"Uh . . ."  
Rinew crossed his arms, still smirking. "What, exactly, did they say to you?"  
"Why?"  
"Well, they usually come up with something different every time you go up there. You always need to be alive and have someone living to vouch for you, but last time I was there, The Powers That Be were stupid bastards who needed to get a life, or brains, or a sex life so that the Gryphons could sneak away from their post. It's really very entertaining."  
"NOT WHEN YOU'RE ALIVE, DAMMIT!" Raditz shrieked, turning purplish red.  
"Well, what did they say? Come on; I'm not going to go up there myself now that you've been."  
"They're up there because some lucky bastard made The Powers That Be mad by being resurrected twice after he was supposed to go to Hell," Raditz grumbled, meaning the "lucky bastard" bit.  
"Really?" Rinew frowned. "That sounds like it could actually be true. Normally they just moan about The Powers That Be."  
"WE'RE NOT TALKING ABOUT THAT! WE'RE TALKING ABOUT--"  
"How you didn't ask if there were any strings attached to getting out, and went running off so that even if I'd tried to tell you, you wouldn't have heard. Right?"  
"YOU WOULDN'T HAVE TOLD ME ANYWAY!"  
"True. But you didn't wait around."  
Try as he might, Raditz could come up with nothing to say to this.  
"Now, I'm assuming you want to know how you find out if you have someone living to vouch for you, and call them up here if you do? Or you'll stand here pestering me with it until I tell you?"  
Raditz thought about it. "Exactly!" he agreed.  
Vegeta Rinew went about explaining it to him. It was amazingly simple; any baka could do it.

* * *  
"No."  
"Absolutely not."  
"I'm not playing Monopoly with you,"  
"And I refuse to play Wocka with you."  
"So there!"  
"Fine!"  
The two glared at each other, their faces and tails telling the same tale; they were at a standstill. Wolvwin would win in anything other than Monopoly, and Carrot would always win there. As neither Saiyan wished to play something he knew he would lose . . .  
"Maybe we should try something with magic?" Wolvwin suggested, fingering the tarekazari dangling from his throat.  
"Not something where we can say someone wins," Carrot revised the suggestion, perking up just a bit, "because you've had practice. Your Kaasan taught you this stuff, right?"  
"Right."  
Carrot thought about this for a moment before agreeing. "Yeah! Magic!"  
"Happit says it's a good idea," Wolvwin said, nodding towards Lady, who sat on a pillow watching them.  
They had already established that Wolvwin could hear and relay Lady's words to Carrot.  
"Great!" Carrot grinned, his tail swishing lazily behind him now, the hairs on it no longer sticking out. "But . . . what sort of magic . . ."  
"Gates," Wolvwin announced. "They're really important; you need to know about transportation first. Plus, that's pretty much all I know about."  
"How come?"  
Wolvwin's face twisted up just a little, in that way Carrot knew meant he'd hit a place that hurt. "She died before she could teach me more. Don't ask stupid questions."  
"Okay."  
With a slight scowl, Wolvwin launched into a diatribe about magic essence, the way it wasn't physical, how you had to focus on it through some sort of medium made just for the task of working with magic. Carrot estimated he was about halfway through when the air seemed to leave the room with a whoosh and the room went dark.  
"Uh . . . is that supposed to happen? Like, demonstrating?" Carrot asked as swirling purple and red shreds of mist appeared in a nearby mirror, fogging their reflections. "That's a Gate, isn't it? . . ."  
Wolvwin didn't answer; he was too busy gaping.  
"I guess it is, then."  
At this point, Lady came to stand beside him; she didn't seem the least bit worried.  
Carrot then did something that he'd later call stupid, once he had learned that walking into strange Gates that appear out of nowhere with no one there to claim their creation.  
He walked over to the Gate and touched it; his hand went through. As his hand, instead of a stub, came back out when he stepped back, he took this to mean that this Gate was safe. And he walked right up to it and stepped through.  
And fell.

* * *  
"Now what?"  
"We wait,"  
"Did it work?"  
"We'll see."   
"But I want to know if it worked!"  
"You'll know if no one shows up in several days. Now shut up!"

* * *  
Wolvwin stared at the place where the Gate had been. "Uh-oh . . ."  
Vegeta was going to kill him. There was no other thought he could come up but that he would die by his future self's hand.  
He went up to the wall and began to cautiously prod it with a finger. But the Gate was gone--both his eyes and that sense for magic told him that--and would remain that way.  
He wondered if Carrot would be coming back.  
He also wondered if he wanted to know the answer.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

::What are you doing, Ojiisan?::  
Vegeta started out of whatever level of concentration he had managed to acquire. His immediate thought was that he had finally lost it; hearing voices in one's head was a good sign of that. Or a bad sign, if you were one who didn't happen to want to lose anything.  
::Who the Hell are you?:: he demanded with his mind, having noted that the identity of this mind voice was far different than either a Dragon's or a Happit's. As a matter of fact, there was something almost Saiyan about it, but watery Saiyan, as though there wasn't a lot of it there.  
::I'm . . . uh . . .::  
::What?::  
::Uh . . . I dunno. Lemme check?::  
More than confused and still half convinced that he had very much lost it, Vegeta sent a feeling of assent at the mind voice.  
::I'm Ebony,:: the voice came back after a long moment. ::I had to check Tousan's mind for it . . .::  
Long forgotten knowledge came back to Vegeta. He asked, already having a good idea of what the answer was, ::And who's your Tousan?::  
::Tousan is Tousan.::  
::There are many Tousans out there. What's your Tousan's name?:: Vegeta asked, intrigued now that he was almost certain of who this one with the hesitant thoughts was.  
::Uh . . .::  
Vegeta chuckled in more than his mind as he waited again for her to speak.  
::Trunks? . . . yes, Trunks. My Tousan's name is Trunks.::  
Vegeta chuckled again; he'd been right.  
This was a very interesting turn of events; because of it, Vegeta would not remember the Game for days. Only time would tell if this would turn events in a direction that they should not go.

* * *  
"Uh . . . do you know where we are, Lady?" Carrot asked, bending down to pick her up. He played with her ears and she looked up sorrowfully at him, as though trying to say something but utterly unable to get through to him. Or as though she were a sad little puppy. Carrot preferred to think it was the latter, as she could talk, according to Wolvwin.  
The person in front of him moved forward a little, and Carrot followed, wondering just what sort of line this was and why everyone but he--and Lady--had halos floating above their heads.  
Well, actually, not all of them had halos strictly above their heads; some of the halos were crooked, handing over the sides of people's heads as if hanging from a hinge or off of a doornail. Carrot had the feeling that those were the people who had been rather ingenious at misplacing things and forgetting to keep their possessions in their proper places in life.  
He then wondered why the description 'in life' had come into his thoughts at the sight of these people . . .   
And also wondered why it seemed so appropriate.

* * *  
Trunks stared into very thin air, wondering exactly how the need for this conversation had come about.  
When his wondering led to questions and answers--more questions than answers--he ordered himself to stop thinking and concentrated on the road. This did not help his aim in driving very much at all, and he only just managed to miss hitting several trucks, five vans, and numerous cars; or, rather, they missed him, as he made not the slightest attempt to skirt them.  
Perhaps it would have been better had he flown; there were far fewer airplanes in the world than cars, after all.  
But as there were no drunk drivers on this particular road at this particular hour and Trunks was in fact the only driver on it who even halfway fit the description of reckless driver, no one crashed into him as he swerved on down the road. There were a few rear-endings along the way, but none of them involved his car, if one discounted the fact that it was by dodging him that the rest of the accidents occurred.  
But enough of Trunks' car.  
Busy wondering about his sanity, or lack thereof, was Trunks.  
He needed to speak to his Tousan. Inquire as to were such things normal--he doubted this--or should he get counseling. He doubted his Tousan would prescribe a counselor; more likely than not, he'd give Trunks the look he didn't know he possessed, the "I'm not too sure I'm your Tousan at moments like these" look.  
And then he'd proceed to beat the stuffing out of his one and only son.  
Vegeta held the Solution to Every Problem Under the Sun: get beat up/beat up someone else.  
If there was anything Trunks needed right now, it was that. Maybe Tousan would make a fair fight out of it; Trunks needed that too, though not as much as he needed to feel pain to know that he was very much conscious. You couldn't feel pain if you were unconscious--  
Scratch that: yes you could. It just had to be the sort of pain they let you feel to know that you were dying--or to make you wish you were dead.  
If he felt pain when Tousan hit him--and the only time he had failed to really, honestly feel it was in his dreams--then he was alive, well, and crazy.  
He didn't like that prospect much. Or at all, in fact. He'd much rather find that this was all a dream, by waking up just at the point when Tousan was really starting to enjoy pounding on him. That had actually happened twice in younger years; but other than that, when Tousan was beating him up, it was not a dream.  
This had better be a dream; he wasn't equipped with the mental facilities to stay sane if he was indeed conscious. That is to say, he did not have his mother's genius or his father's: Trunks was neither brilliant scientist nor fighter, and as such could not figure some situations out as quickly as they could. Trunks' genius was of a far different sort, and in fact was spread over several areas so that he could never have been called a prodigy.  
Trunks also did not have the knowledge of Vegetasei and the Saiyan way passed down to him--Vegeta had neglected a few things there, though Kami knows he should have known better, as did Vegeta--which would have assisted with his finding the answer on his own. But, since he did not have that knowledge, and since he was not a genius, he had to have help.  
Help from the one person in the world who might know, and the one person in the world most likely to inflict severe physical damage on him for it.

* * *  
Wolvwin had no wish to die.  
Which was why he left, at as fast a speed as he felt was safe, several of those amazing capsules (Really, really amazing; his stomach ached painfully to remember just how much food he'd managed to get into one of the things, and with room to spare!) in a breast pocket and dressed in that silly Chikyuu outfit that, despite the pure ludicrousness of its design, did work for the climate.   
He wasn't entirely certain where he was going but that it must be away from the cities of this place, near water, and preferably covered with those spectacular shades of green that were the very reason he'd decided that Chikyuu was a very pretty planet. True, the place didn't smell too good, what with the sweetness of something (Perhaps life?) in every breath; but then, perhaps that was normal. Wolvwin had spent most of his life in a sterile environment where only the smell of people and various doctoring and cleaning fluids abounded; anything other than no smell, disinfectant smell, or people stink was strange to his nostrils.  
Even that was not normal for a Saiyan. They are born with noses, and meant to use them as does the usual carnivore, to recognize what their eyes and ears cannot quite grasp. It is cruelty not to allow them full use of it in a true environment rather than an artificial place. Wolvwin would be better for the teaching of smells to his nose, even if it would feel very strange for a long time, most certainly months and perhaps even years.  
Wolvwin's frown deepened as he turned in midair to survey the surrounding miles. He decided to head towards the mountain region, his eyes drawn there for a reason he would never be allowed to understand because Vegeta would never tell him about it.  
Though he'd been told that his people had originated here, on this strange planet, he had not been told from where on Chikyuu the original Saiyans, both the first one and the first ones capable of using magic, ki, or both, had come from in terms of an exact site.  
No Saiyan would ever be quite sure where in the Universe they'd picked up their tails; even the Tester, who was the cause of those in the first place, could not have taken the movement of worlds, systems, and galaxies to find where that place was now. But no Saiyan, no matter how old, or how young, could have missed that spot, the place of Beginnings, once their fighting hearts calmed and they settled to Chikyuu.  
Son Goku hadn't missed it; he'd built his house right there. 

* * *  
Ebony babbled away in her Ojiisan's mind as he went about his business, which seemed to involve stalking around with a scowl, an occasional--and apparently more than atypical, judging from his thoughts and further back memories--smile peeking through when she said something he found particularly endearing.  
She could already tell that her Ojiisan found very little endearing, and that the conversation she was having with him was in fact less likely to occur with anyone else than Chikyuu was to be blown up by Frieza. According to her Ojiisan's mind, that was less likely to happen than Tousan deciding he didn't want her and Kaasan. Since Ebony didn't understand the concept of dead people or the fact that they can't blow up planets (She was about three months from being born; her Ojiisan thought that her age made for many, many allowances--whatever those were.), he'd told her that.  
She liked that thought. Tousan was nice; hard to talk to because he kept interjecting with an ::I'm hallucinating!:: or ::Are you that supposedly bad tuna I ate last night? I think I believe Marron about it now.:: but very nice.  
Marron and Kaasan were the same person; Ebony had known that for all of--well, for all of anything. Kaasan was who lived around Ebony, the one whose heart had murmured since Ebony had ears and before, when all she could feel were vibrations. Kaasan had been all that there was until Ebony had found her new aptitude that allowed her to hear anyone's mind, not just Kaasan's. (That was how she knew who Tousan and Ojiisan were, from listening to Kaasan for so long.) She could even talk to these other minds, a fact which eased the loneliness she hadn't known was present within her, that she wouldn't have known the name to if she had.  
There was someone else she could speak with, too, someone whose voice was very like hers, young, unformed, instead of like Tousan's or Ojiisan's. She thought that perhaps it was different than Kaasan's, too, though she hadn't tried to talk to Kaasan yet; something deeper than any thought told her that that could have very dire consequences, could hurt or obliterate Ebony herself.  
Tousan's mind was busy right now, so much that it hurt Ebony's head; Ojiisan's was similar, but his was raging with one thought rather than writhing with many right now. Ebony didn't quite understand the reason why he had changed his thoughts so swiftly, except that someone else seemed to be missing and he felt bad auras.  
So, Ebony felt for and found the thread leading to the one other person who she had talked to yet, the person with the mind like hers. And he answered, swiftly and happily.  
She didn't know that she was feeling anything, nor that it was called slight irritation, at the natural cheerfulness of his mind's voice; very similar to her Ojiisan, was Ebony, even at such an age. The one who was her brother--not technically her brother, but with the same basic Saiyan lines in his blood and human lines just as good as hers--took after his mother in basic temperament.  
The basic gist of Jet's thoughts, though they could be understood quite well by Ebony who spoke the same not-language most of the time, could not be understood by anyone else. He knew the words, but neglected to use them unless he was speaking with his own Tousan. He had not spoken to Ojiisan yet.  
Jet's basic point at the moment ran along the lines of ::Guess what I learned about existence today!::  
And then, through a tangled string of unworded thoughts, colorful pictures that were not quite real, and jumbled feelings that were very fun, the unborn son of Mirai Trunks consulted the unborn daughter of Chibi Trunks and told her just what he had found out about the world to-day.

* * *  
As he raged inwardly and felt around for them, Vegeta swore. When that helped his mood no more than one sandwich ever helped his stomach, he swore again; it still didn't calm his anger or the worry placed deep within him.  
Most of that worry was directed towards Carrot, whom he could not feel at all. The rest was directed towards Wolvwin, more in a "What the HELL did that little . . ." way than an "Oh no! He could be hurt, or dead, or dying . . ." way.   
He knew this was Wolvwin's fault. It had to be. Carrot had only gotten into this kind of trouble once, when he was four and somehow managed to sleep walk (Under a half moon rather than a full one, luckily for any humans who had been out that night.) out into the woods, where he had remained for several days. After that, the story got a bit fuzzy, namely because Kakkarot was the one telling it and he claimed that he wasn't supposed to tell Vegeta some parts of it. Then he'd said something about his Kaasan, and clapped his mouth as though he'd spoken a Word of Power to make the entire Universe crumble and by closing his mouth could prevent it even once the words were out of his mouth.  
Wolvwin, however . . . well, Vegeta knew what he had been like at that age. Trouble.  
As a matter of fact, he'd been trouble of that sort far into his teens. Mischief from his innermost being right on into the ki blasts he let fly.  
Carrot had a spotless--nearly spotless--record; Wolvwin's, even at that age, was blackened by all that he had done to make other people's lives Hell, namely the King's, his bodyguards', and any other person's, whether Saiyan or alien, who had come into his notice.  
He couldn't feel Carrot's ki, but he could feel Wolvwin's--in a vague sort of way that only told him that the rodent was alive, not giving him any details such as where the brat was or in what condition.  
Vegeta growled and exited Capsule Corp., intending to, somehow, get close enough to Wolvwin so that he could kill the younger and very irritating version of himself.  
At least, he would have left Capsule Corp. But Trunks, looking absolutely terrified, shot out of his car and shouted, "Tousan! Stop! I need to talk to you!"  
Vegeta had never been much for conversation with his son. But something in the brat's voice, and the way he held himself, told Vegeta to wait, float back down to the ground, and listen to whatever the purple-haired boy had to say.

* * *  
Wolvwin gulped down the last of the food in front of him, and found to his pleasure when he looked up that there were several more bowls there.  
He remembered having sworn to himself that he was going into hiding, until and if he came across a space pod to take him far away from this planet. That particular plan had left him the moment he had smelled a few particular aromas--namely those caused by what was commonly known as Chi-Chi's Cooking.  
One could hardly blame a five-year-old Saiyan for this. He'd not been taught to resist good food.  
Food was the second most important thing in the world, next to conflict. Conflict could mean either fighting or games, both of which usually involved a winner or a loser; and Wolvwin was very often the winner, which was a more than nice feeling.  
Saiyans are very competitive creatures.  
But the way Wolvwin was eating now had nothing to do with competition; it had to do with hunger added to the sheer atrocity of the food he'd filched from Capsule Corp. Chi-Chi's food was warm, having been cooked, and very juicy. Saiyans do not mind their food cooked, and actually prefer it that way if it isn't overcooked and unless they've recently been in Oozaru form. This contradicts what one might believe of creatures meant to be carnivores and half-wild, but then, life is full of contradictions.  
Chi-Chi had moved up from "this Kakkarot fellow's alien mate" to "Chi-Chi-san" within a matter of helpings; one helping of her food and she was Kakkarot's mate. Two helpings, she was Chi-Chi. Three, she was Chi-Chi-san, and would remain there forever in Wolvwin's mind, no matter what her species. A good cook was a good cook, and commanded respect. In Chi-Chi's case, would have commanded it quite effectively if Wolvwin had not automatically bequeathed it to her.  
A good cook who'd served him three times without being visibly annoyed--Saiyan cooks, especially, are not known for patience, even when the Prince is involved; and one cannot attack them unless one wishes to die by the hands of those who appreciate food better than that--most certainly deserved awe as well as respect. Wolvwin's definition of helpings was large for his age, even for a Saiyan, and would have depleted a lesser person's resources and checked temper.  
But Chi-Chi was well up to the challenge of a five-year-old Saiyan; she'd been feeding the equivalent of one for many years now, one with a much more voracious appetite than Wolvwin would ever posses. She'd also raised two demi-Saiyans, and that sort claims an almost insatiable appetite as well. Feeding Wolvwin was actually a marvelous break from the usual meals she made, worthy of twenty people or more. Wolvwin was only eating enough for three starving normal men, and slowing down with every bite.  
"Do Vegeta and Bulma know you're over here?" she asked sweetly just as Wolvwin made to swallow another bite.  
He choked on his food, coughed several times with tears in his eyes, then managed to swallow it. "Um . . ." he said when he noticed the stern look Chi-Chi was giving him. Her voice had been quite casual when she'd asked, but her face . . .   
"'Um'?" Chi-Chi frowned and crossed her arms. "'Um' is not an answer, young man."  
"Um . . . No . . ." Wolvwin said in a very small voice.  
It didn't occur to him to wonder how he had managed to be here for only two days and feel amazingly guilty to be asked such a question; he had no obligation to these people! He didn't have to tell anyone where he was going!  
But still, Chi-Chi considered Vegeta and Bulma--or at least Bulma--to be Wolvwin's guardians, of sort, since he didn't have any other family and was staying at Capsule Corp.  
"No?" Chi-Chi made a sound at the back of her throat and went to the phone. "Then I'm just going to have to call Bulma and let her know you're here."  
It was not a threat; it was the way Chi-Chi's mind worked. Bulma had never really minded when Trunks came over without telling her, as long as Chi-Chi called. And Bra had done the same a few times, when Pan had been younger and liked to spend the night with Obaasan and Ojiisan.  
"Uh . . . no, you don't have to!" Wolvwin yelped. "I'm done eating anyway . . . I'll just go . . ."  
"Back to Capsule Corp.," Chi-Chi clarified.  
"Um . . . yeah . . . Capsule Corp. . . . right . . ." Wolvwin agreed, knowing by the sharp glare Chi-Chi gave him that he had better.  
Then he flew out of the window at full-speed, wondering exactly what had happened back there, why he felt halfway like laughing, and why he somehow respected Chi-Chi-san even more.  
Chi-Chi watched him go, to confirm that he was headed in the direction of Capsule Corp. She sighed without quite knowing the reason, but knowing that somehow the house was more empty than ever now that he'd been here. She picked up a picture of her sons, the one taken on Goten's fifth birthday, him sitting on Gohan's shoulders with cake all over his face and a huge smile as well.  
And then she realized it: she missed having children around the house. A natural mother hen, Chi-Chi felt more and more alone these days, Goten having finally gotten around to moving out a year ago and Gohan having been gone for--how long now? And Goku . . . well, Goku was free-spirited, which basically meant "never around".  
Chi-Chi sighed again.

* * *  
"'Scuse me," Carrot hissed, tapping her shoulder. He'd been walking around forever looking for someone to ask, and as he had finally found someone who didn't make his spine crawl (Which basically meant someone about his height.) . . .  
She turned around, and he forgot his question.  
She had probably been a very pretty little girl in life, with brown hair that had probably shone and gray eyes that had probably sparkled with life. But this was not her life, and her death had been a bad one.  
Carrot knew this, and did not know how he knew. He knew the answer to his question, too; all of these people were dead, and the line they were standing in probably led to Heaven and Hell like the ones in the stories Goku told. He knew this the moment he saw her, and it made something deep inside of him angry, very angry.  
The anger was mostly directed at the reason she had died, although he'd not been told that yet and wouldn't have understood all of it if he had; 'twas pure Saiyan instinct that made him rage inside at the sudden knowledge that she must have been hurt before death, and badly. Even dead people's eyes shouldn't look like that, when they were here . . .  
She looked at him, and he cried inside.  
There was something within Carrot, something unnamed and for the most part unprecedented, something far beyond compassion and empathy; it was the same thing that existed in Goku, that made him who he was. And that something was buried deep, only allowed to rise at times when . . .   
Well, times like when someone's eyes looked like that.  
For the first time in his life, Carrot wanted to kill.  
"Hi?" he said, knowing as he said it just how awful it must sound. "I'm Carrot."  
She looked at him blankly for a moment.  
"This is Lady," he went on, nodding to the puppy in his arms.  
For just one moment, something in the girl's eyes lit up; Carrot was not arrogant enough to think it was because of him, and was absolutely certain it was Lady that brought the girl's smile up into her eyes.  
"Hi . . ." she said, shyly, the little light in her eyes fading after a few seconds but actually staying there, visible though less bright. "I'm Dee."  
Lady squirmed out of Carrot's arms and hid behind him, perhaps not liking the idea of being petted by a dead person. Carrot had been just about to offer to let the girl pet her, and she must have sensed that. Dumb Happit.  
Carrot almost asked what it was like being dead, then checked his natural curiosity when that something screamed "NO! Wrong! Don't ask THAT!"  
"Did you know, you're the first person to talk to me here?" Dee asked after a few frantic minutes of Carrot's silently trying to come up with something to say. "Thank you. Even if you aren't going to say anything else. Even if you are alive."  
"I am?" Carrot asked stupidly, wondering why no one else would try to talk to her, ask what was wrong, or at least just try to cheer her up. True, that hadn't been his intention, but he hadn't seen her eyes until after he'd tapped on her shoulder to ask her if she knew where he was.  
"Uh-huh," she said, boldly half-pouting and adding, "If you're alive. Are you alive? You don't have a . . . a . . . whatever you call them . . ."  
"Halo," Carrot supplied when it was obvious she'd never get it. "And no, I'm not dead; I just walked into something without finding out what it was first."  
"What sort of something?" Dee asked, looking curious and then shy and then curious once again.  
Carrot answered, trying to explain a Gate to someone who'd never seen one when he had and didn't understand what they were himself.  
Carrot would never know, no one would ever tell him, just what good the something that abounded through him could do for a heart or a soul at first glance. Goku had never known; Kakkarot was never destined to know just how pure his heart really was or how he could make people feel better just by smiling and making conversation no one, least of all him, really understood.  
There was only one Goku, only one Carrot. Only two Kakkarots; and the world needed them both.  
Most of all, right now, a little girl named Dee needed the almost healing power of Carrot's tendency to walk right up to anyone that needed cheering up and then effectively do so without quite realizing it or knowing the cause of their pain in the first place.  
Anyone else would just have to wait.

* * *  
"What is it you want?" Vegeta demanded, scowling at Trunks.  
Trunks took a very deep breath. "Tousan, is it a bad sign if you think you can hear your unborn child talking to you inside of your head?" He sat down on the hood of his car and went on, not noticing the suddenly amused gleam in Vegeta's eyes. "She's driving me insane! And I don't even know if she's a she yet, Marron wanted to be surprised . . . Tousan? Tousan?"  
Vegeta was laughing at Trunks. It wasn't quite his mocking, you-are-so-pathetic laugh, but something more along the lines of the laugh when he just found someone else's life-or-death plight amusing. In other words, it wasn't a real laugh--more like a suppressed chuckle. Which was worse than a normal Vegeta laugh.  
"TOUSAN!" Trunks shouted, a little bit hurt that Vegeta hadn't even let him finish.  
"I have a solution," Vegeta said, immediately stopping his chuckle, probably having had full control of it and trying to get his son angry.  
"What?" Trunks asked, immediately intrigued and hoping that Vegeta didn't mean that he was going to pound on him already, without even hearing the rest of it.  
"Is Ebony irritating you? Tell her to shut up." Vegeta looked very smug as he raised an eyebrow at Trunks. "Either that or do so yourself; it's not becoming to your heritage to whine."  
Trunks gaped. How had he . . .   
Vegeta smirked.  
Ebony laughed.  
And someone else chuckled.


End file.
